The Long Hunt
by Giraffe on the Moon
Summary: Tasuki and Chichiri end up working with Mary, a vagabond with secrets. An entire mess of forgotten histories and old enemies crop up. Plus, who's Grendel and what does Tavern Owner Marcuccilli want with with Mary? And what about blue eyed and blond Jacob?
1. A Game of Numbers

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **This was a dream I had, and of course, much more fleshed out. I took myself out of it, because no one really likes a Mary Sue. And no, Mary does not stand for Mary Sue. Mary is Mary, and I liked that name. She's modeled very loosely after one of George Elliot's character from Middlemarch, whose name is Mary Garth, so there.

Chapter 1 - A Game of Numbers

The board hung ominously from one of the shops, painted in vibrant reds, auburns, and gold. On it hung a mess of numbers, jumbled about. In actuality it was a much simpler pattern to understand then to perform.

Mary stared at the brass knot before her, about as wide as her palm, and situated on the floor. On it, the number four was elegantly inscribed. She studied it intensely, pursing her lips, and looked back up at the board. It was far away from where she stood right now, and she had to squint to sharpen the edges of the painted numerals.

Well, the board really didn't matter at the moment. What was killing her was the time it took to race back and forth across this massive complex and stomp or slam all of the brass numbers down in the proper order. While her memory was fairly decent, she still had a time of pinpointing the exact location of over thirty different numbers, not even part of a series and having no specific pattern. How long had she been at this game now?

"Mary, why don't you sit down and take a break?" called an out of place monk at one of the thick wooden tables. She turned and looked at him, and he beamed at her with his ever-cheerful face. Mary decided a break wouldn't hurt her, and so strolled between the islands of wide, round tables, filled with laughing men and peppered with the occasional trill of woman's laughter. A broken mug punctuated the din, followed by a few shouts. Mary's eyes swept through the room to locate the trouble. It was quickly subdued as others at the table eased the anger.

"Any luck?" the red head beside the monk asked. He had on a wide smile, a few of the clasps on his tunic opened and a bit of heat in his cheeks. There was the smell of booze on his tongue.

"No," she moaned, putting her head on the table. She'd been at this for hours. Every time she got the puzzle wrong or ran out of time, the numbers rearranged. "What about you? Could you find anything out about Kendall?"

"Nothing, sorry," the monk shook his head. The redhead poured her a tiny glass of sake, the rice wine Mary had learned he was so fond of. "Tasuki, now's not the time for her to be drinking," the monk argued.

"Maybe it'll loosen her up," Tasuki answered. "Come on, you should have a drink too, Chichiri! If you stay so uptight all the time you'll get wrinkles!"

Mary was glad Tasuki was distracted and she didn't have to drink the sake. While she enjoyed drinking with Tasuki, she had no stomach for it in her current frustration. The thought of dimming her intelligence further made her insides curl.

It had been about two years she'd been looking for Kendall, and the sojourn had brought her here, to the Curled Horns Tavern. The last two months had been spent in the company of Chichiri the monk and Tasuki the…well, the Jack-of-all-trades. Mary had come across them staying at the same Inn, and Tasuki had invited her to drink. It ended up that the pair of them had no direction, and she was in sore need of some traveling companions to ward off attention. Her gray eyes and foreign face were enough to attract all sorts of unwanted mugs. Mary wasn't certain why she trusted the pair of them at a basic level, but had found herself better for it.

Mary looked around the Curled Horns, appreciating the communal tables and interaction between strangers. The atmosphere was easy and open, built in an expansive building, with polished, dark wood floors. All of the furniture was handmade, hewn from the woods around this small outpost. Various shops surrounded walls on all sides, the counters alive and buzzing with transactions between the mountain men that made the Curled Horns their home, and the colorful grab bag of vagabonds. They came in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Now that Mary had made it this far, she was not so much of an anomaly.

"Pretty soon we'll be the strangers and you'll have to protect us," Tasuki seemed to be following her train of thought, as he tried to discern the exact location of her gaze. Mary was studying the vibrant, geometric patterns on a desert traveler's cloak.

"A lot of good that will do you," she smiled, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. She straightened the simple dress and apron, and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. Her eyes moved now to the evergreen trim and the earthy colored tapestries hung along the walls. Everything was dark and pleasant, giving the room an intimate feel in spite of the wideness. There had to be about ten different counters peddling goods. It was the largest complex Mary had ever been in.

"Well, I'm going to give it another try," she sighed, standing up and wandering back around the room. She relocated the brass knobs and carefully began memorizing the numbers again, as Chichiri circulated around the shops, asking for information, and Tasuki tried to pull up anything he could from drunken, loose lips.

The game reset itself three times as the light faded outside, and Mary grew more frustrated. She could have sworn that she'd been correct, and eventually enlisted Chichiri to help her. She and the monk had both done the last two rounds.

"That makes no sense…I could have sworn…" Chichiri scowled, rubbing his smooth chin. Mary was losing patience. She swirled around towards the tavern master's counter, and marched resolutely in his direction. "Mary, where are you going?"

"I'm going to ask the tavern master to stop tampering with my game."

"I'm not so sure if that's a good idea…" Chichiri warned her, taking a few steps to catch up.

The door opened and closed, cool air blowing into the warm room. Mary only noticed because she was passing by one of the fire pits, where a barmaid cursed as the embers were snuffed out. She tossed a glance towards the door, curious to see the newcomers, and absently admired the aristocratic features of a pale nobleman. She kept on her course, and suddenly became aware of just how loud her footsteps were against the wood. The slight heels of her boots had never rung so loudly in such a crowded room before.

Chichiri's hand caught on her elbow and he slowed her to a stop, his face tense. Even Tasuki, who was at a particularly loud and rowdy table, was quiet. All eyes had fallen to the nobleman she had glanced over. As Mary turned her attention instead to the monk, she noticed he held that peculiar mask of his in his free hand, his one good eye turned seriously on the new arrival.

"I have a bad feeling," he murmured softly. Mary followed his line of vision and her eyes caught on the nobleman's. A beautiful woman hung on his arm. They were both dressed elaborately in the style of Mary's countrymen, the woman in a tight corset and hoop skirt, made of heavy velvets and fine cloth, with her hair styled immaculately on a grand wire frame of some sort that had it roll and wave impossibly from her skull. The man stood in a high collared coat with lace bunched at his throat, and the finest riding boots Mary had ever seen. Both preferred rich shades of reddish purple, the man's ebony hair falling in a sheet of black to the small of his back, the woman with vibrant red curls.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, fellow travelers," the man addressed them grandly, his accent sharp and cutting. Mary winced, inadvertently taking a step closer to Chichiri as the man's piercing eyes swept the room. "Enjoy a drink on behalf of the Marcuccilli family. Please, it would be our pleasure," he waved his hand imperiously, and walked across the room to take a seat at a common table, with a number of people with lower stature. The people at said table stiffened, as if a chill had suddenly shot through their bodies. Even their hair seemed to stand on end.

Tasuki, seated with his back now to the nobleman, seemed to go rigid. He looked over at Chichiri and Mary with a grim expression, looking pale and disturbed. Chichiri made a minute motion with his head, and put a hand on Mary's back.

"Let's go talk to that bartender," he said softly, a nervous bustle filling the crowd. Mary seemed to be stuck to the floor, and it took Chichiri a bit of extra pressure on her lower spine to get her legs to move. When they did seem to peel off the floorboards, she stumbled a step or two forward, catching her hip on a nearby table. The noise seemed uncommonly loud. Both she and Chichiri hunched their shoulders instinctively, trying to slink towards the bar.

When they reached the raised wooden counter, Mary put her trembling hands on it and drummed her fingers uncomfortably on the surface. She stared at her bleary reflection, and then looked cautiously up at Chichiri. He was focused intensely on a few bottles of brandy across from them, and the hand he'd placed on her back had unconsciously bunched around the knot of her apron.

"He's watching us," Chichiri said. Mary had nothing to say to that, only felt his eyes as if they were a pair of knives on either side of her throat.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked. Mary's eyes flickered upwards, and she saw the back of the nobleman's head, that sleek hair shimmering like a serpent's scales. Despite this, she felt his blazing focus on herself and Chichiri.

"Can you tell me a little about the gentleman that just walked in?" Looking back at Chichiri, Mary wondered at what point he'd put that uncannily cheerful smile back in place.

"Lord Marcuccilli? He's the landholder in these parts," the bartender answered. "A great patron of ours, though he lives a ways up in the western peak of the mountain pass."

"So he's a usual then?" Mary queried.

"Oh yes, comes as often as he can," the bartender smiled.

"Forgive us for asking. My traveling companion was just moved by his generosity," Chichiri indicated Mary, who turned to him with wide eyes and her lips pressed in a straight line.

"He's quite the handsome fellow, isn't he?" the bartender guffawed. "A good landlord as well."

"Only for good tenants. Tell me, Jasper, who are your guests?" Marcuccilli was suddenly on Mary's other side, smiling broadly. Every muscle in Mary's body went rigid. She stared directly ahead, and felt Chichiri take an ominous step closer to her side. Electricity seemed to leap between both men, and Mary could almost smell the charge building.

"The lady here's been at the memory game for some time," Jasper answered, indicating Mary. Her eyes shot to the bartender, still refusing to look in the direction of Marcuccilli.

"Oh? And how have you liked my little game?" the nobleman demanded her attention. Stiffly, Mary forced the joints in her neck to comply with the demands made on the muscles, so that her head turned as if on a rusty hinge. She met his auburn glare, and immediately felt a hazy disembodiment swelling in her mind.

"I must confess I'm not much of a fan, but I need to complete it," Mary answered, keeping her tones demure.

"That's a pity you don't care for it. I've always loved numbers myself," the nobleman sighed. "Alas, it's a bitter world when one is so factual."

"I can only imagine, myself given to irrational behavior and strong moods," she gave him the answer he wanted, sugar coated and topped with a slight lowering of the chin and a shy drop of her eyes to rest on his shoulder.

"What a quaint little creature you are." His smile was too welcoming. He lifted a hand to take her chin, when the large iron fan Tasuki always carried with him landed with a plop between Mary and Marcuccilli.

"Hey, Chichiri. You shouldn't be letting this guy hit on my girl," Tasuki complained, slinging an arm over Mary's shoulder and bellying up to the bar. Two months ago, when Tasuki had performed this same maneuver, Mary had been shocked at this blatant disregard of propriety. Now, especially as the redhead placed himself between her and the over interested nobleman, Mary just smiled at him. "Can't take my eye off ya for a second. So much trouble," Tasuki sighed.

"Tell me, where is it exactly that you come from?" the nobleman asked, ignoring Tasuki's interruption.

"Didn't you hear me?" Tasuki demanded, slinging the fan over his shoulder and pulling Mary tighter. "I said she was _my_ girl. You wouldn't mind backing up a little, huh?"

"Such crude manners," Marcuccilli sneered. "Hardly becoming of the little diamond in the rough you've got there."

"Ah, forgive us. We're strangers here," Chichiri cut in, smiling apologetically. "It's been a long road, and we're all a little tired after trying to work out that puzzle. If you'd pardon us, we should get some rest."

The buzzing disembodiment got stronger in Mary's head for a moment, before Chichiri lightly patted her shoulder. It snapped away at once, as if a thickening connection had been shattered. Chichiri's smile grew almost imperceptibly darker.

"She looks a little dazed, hmm? Why don't you give her a hand upstairs?" Chichiri said to Tasuki.

"I'll give her more then a hand." Tasuki made a show of hefting Mary up.

"What're you doing?" she gasped, and Tasuki smiled.

"Just hang on," he answered, carrying her through the common room and up the curving stairs along one wall, between two shops. Mary was quiet, tapping her fingers nervously together, hoping she wasn't too heavy and Tasuki wasn't too drunk. She felt Marcuccilli's eyes on her all the way up, and did not feel warm again until they stood in their small, shared room, and Chichiri's monk staff tapped lightly on the floorboards once the door was closed. The spell seemed to shatter once more, and Mary breathed in a sigh or relief.

"He's creepy," Tasuki shivered, setting Mary down on her feet.

"He almost had you," Chichiri cautioned her.

"I looked into his eyes," she sunk down onto her bed, bending and untying her boots. She expelled a breath, and looked up at them. "Thank you, again."

"Don't mention it," Tasuki waved it off. Chichiri looked a degree more troubled.

"I think we'd better figure out that puzzle as soon as we can and move on," Chichiri warned her. She nodded. "Get some sleep for now. Tasuki, I'll wake you…" Chichiri trailed off, Tasuki already passed out on his own bed. The monk clicked his tongue, and Mary smiled. "I can't believe he even made it up the stairs, drunk as he was."

"You two are such good friends," Mary smiled, standing up and gently taking one of Tasuki's legs. She carefully worked a boot off. "You must have known each other for a long time."

"It feels like forever sometimes," Chichiri agreed, tossing a couple logs into the fire. Mary had been surprised at how easy it was to share chambers with the pair of them, but had never contested it. When she'd first teamed up with them, they'd slept outside around a campfire for two weeks before reaching civilization again, quite lost after Tasuki had accidentally used their map for a fire starter.

"It's always good to have someone who doesn't mind the most tiresome moments," Mary said softly, pulling the covers over Tasuki. She untied her own apron, and loosely plaited her mahogany hair. "Goodnight, Chichiri. Don't forget to wake me up for my watch too."

"Alright. Get some rest," Chichiri nodded, still pleasantly smiling. Mary put her back to him and burrowed deep into the covers, forcefully banishing Marcuccilli's stare from her consciousness. The last thing she remembered was the soft mumbles of a sutra coming in low tones from Chichiri, Tasuki's soft snoring, and the crack and pop of the fire.


	2. Fine Print

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yuig or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Reviews would be good. So far not a lot of interest in the story. What's everybody thinking about? Tell me! ... Please...

Chapter 2 – Fine Print

Mary had never considered herself impatient, but she was quite literally at her wits end. She looked around the room in the early morning, already having been at it since before first light. Tasuki had still been snoring and Chichiri had been moderately distressed to see her moving again so early. She'd brushed his words aside, and gone to resume her game.

The vast room was empty, all the chairs turned up atop the heavy tables, benches piled high over at one end of the room. She had the place to herself, and hadn't been bothered when the sleepy servants began to come down and ignite the fire pits with stacks of wood and repetitive strikes of flint. No one questioned or argued with her, leaving her to hunt and – as time progressed – mash the brass buttons down.

She had bent everything in her power towards finding Kendall, had let this mission obsess her for the past two years. It had dragged her through the turbulent Kutou, stretches of the deserts and plains in Sairou, along frozen mountain spines in Hokkan, and finally through the sprawling cities of Konan. Before that, she had sailed across two oceans, found her way through thick woods, spent a month lost in a swamp, and burned her skin to a crisp in the voyages across arid plains. She had stared down death time and again, both at the hands of human marauders, and had encountered her fair share of magical creatures and demons.

It had been three hours now, and her frustration was at a breaking point. She determined with an irritated rake through her hair that it was time to step outside. Her boots clicked across the floor, and she collected her threadbare shawl from a peg, bundling up for the early morning chill. Her hand closed around the doorknob, and she gave it a pull open. One booted foot moved forward, and she followed in a normal walk to get out the door, before there was a crackling burn throughout her body, as if she'd just been struck by lightning.

With a yelp, she tumbled backwards. Her back slammed into someone behind her, and large hands helped her to stand up straight. Shaking, her nerves jittery, Mary examined the door, looking for the source of trouble. A blue sky shone above the treetops outside, so it couldn't have been the weather.

"You should be careful what trouble you get yourself into," said a deeply masculine voice. Mary's flustered heartbeats stopped, as if she'd been flash frozen into an icicle.

"Lord Marcuccilli," she whispered, forcing herself to stand up on her own. She spun to face him, clasping her worn shawl tightly in her hands.

"No need for fear," Marcuccilli smiled. He smoothed some hair out of her face, and she pulled back. His fingers made her skin burn with cold.

"What happened?" she asked.

"It's a contract, you know."

"What is?" Mary frowned.

"The game. It's a contract. You can't leave until you've completed it."

"I was unaware that the agreement was a contract," Mary said.

"It was, and you will be unable to set foot outside of the establishment until you have completed the game." He smiled. "You're one of my servants now."

"That's absurd," Mary stated, dropping her demure act. She moved again towards the door, and felt an earth shaking electrocution startle her senses. A full scream ripped itself out of her throat, and she collapsed, smoking, on the floor.

"It's not so bad," Marcuccilli squatted and pulled some electrified hair out of her face. Static snapped at his fingers, but he didn't seem to mind. Mary half dragged herself away from him. It was the only thing she could muster.

"Don't touch me," she commanded of him, her arms shaking under the labor.

"I do have a dress code here," Marcuccilli continued, undaunted. "I've already had the seamstress put together some new clothing for you. That simple calico won't do at all, not for the boiler room. And all this hair will only get in the way." A knife hissed out of the sheath at his side, and he gripped a handful of hair.

"I said don't touch me!" Mary struggled, and his knife came down quickly. It cut that fistful of hair loose. Mary lashed out with one hand, striking him across the face. He threw her onto her belly, slamming a heavy knee between her shoulder blades, and proceeded to saw off hair.

"Rekka Shin'en!" Tasuki's voice bellowed, and orange flame licked the base of Mary's neck. Marcuccilli seemed to have completely vanished.

"Mary!" Chichiri was suddenly at her side, his hand on her shoulder. She struggled to sit, slipping on shanks of her dark hair.

"She's mine now, boy. Should've kept a closer eye on her," Marcuccilli sneered at Tasuki, who backed towards Chichiri and Mary, his iron fan held at the ready.

"Over my dead body!" Tasuki challenged.

"She signed the contract," Marcuccilli laughed, a page falling loose in his outstretched arm. Mary and the others recognized it as the page she had signed agreeing to not cheat at the game and stating that if she won, she would be taken to the seer at the top of the mountain.

"That had nothing to do with you," Tasuki scoffed.

"It had everything to do with me. If she'd taken the time to read the fine print, she'd have noticed the clause saying that she would become my slave if she ventured out of the building, while still in possession of the talisman used to activate the game."

"But I left it…" Mary frowned, recalling sliding the talisman into the pocket of her apron. She hadn't put her apron on this morning. She looked down, and her apron was firmly situated about her waist. Her eyes widened. That couldn't be…

"You have it on you, otherwise that barrier would not have reacted," Marcuccilli declared triumphantly.

"Rekka Shin'en!" Tasuki bellowed again, but once more, Marcuccilli successfully danced out of the way. "Damn! Thought I could burn it!" he growled.

"By legally binding law, she's mine," Marcuccilli smiled.

"Not if she wins the game," Chichiri countered.

"The game becomes null and void if she attempts to leave with the talisman. It's all here, in writing." Marcuccilli waved the contract.

Mary pulled out the talisman, frowning at it. Something looked out of place, but she couldn't tell what. The oblong, shimmering stone was the same aqua blue she'd had with her the whole stay. And yet, it felt different. The stone vibrated, and then shattered into dust. Marcuccilli was smiling again.

"Null and void," he repeated softly. "And just to be sure you don't escape," he lifted a hand and swirled his fingers once. The room shook, walls moaning and leaning in, and the shadows lengthened. Chichiri took Mary's collar, two fingers lifted in the custom of reciting a sutra, and attempted to pull off that peculiar method of transporting between places. Mary felt herself 'flicker,' for lack of a better term, and then an ensuing snap that rooted her to the spot.

Shadows shot across the floor and wrapped up her arms and legs. She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, struggling to get away, as they became sticky and viscous, molding her to the floor and pulling her down. Chichiri strained to free her, as Tasuki went after Marcuccilli.

"Hold on, Mary!" Chichiri encouraged. She could see him ferociously concentrating on getting her freed, but it seemed like every spare second pulled her deeper and deeper into the floor. The sludge climbing up her body heated up suddenly, as a gout of flame belched through the air, and the floorboards charred.

Lines of fire burned themselves into Mary's skin, the dark sludge climbing beneath her skin and crawling up her arms. Her scream tore loose as the slithering darkness solidified and hardened in fetters, binding her to this place. She felt the distinct locking of her body and soul to this place, and it was smothering.

"That's the end of this!" Marcuccilli declared, making a swiping motion with his hand.

"Rekka Shin'en!" Tasuki's words echoed hollowly, and only a gust of wind leapt from his powerful fan. Mary panted face down on the floor, hardly even able to open her eyes. "What the?"

"Our powers…" Chichiri looked up.

"You two are welcome to stay as my guests, but the girl is my prisoner," Marcuccilli smiled.

"Like I'm just gonna give up!" Tasuki shouted, streaking in for some old fashioned, hand-to-hand combat. Marcuccilli's elbow slammed against the side of Tasuki's head, followed by an uppercut. The man dry heaved, and Marcuccilli's finely booted leg struck him in the ribs. Tasuki rolled back into a table, where some of the heavy benches crashed down on him.

"You bastard!" Chichiri sprung up.

"No!" Mary caught his leg. "Stop! Stop! I'll come!" Mary looked pleadingly at Marcuccilli, who was approaching Tasuki with a sadistic smile on his face. He paused and looked at Mary, before folding his hands behind his back. For all the morning's strife, he looked perfectly relaxed and at ease. "I'll come peacefully. Just…don't hurt them!"

"Gentlemen?" Marcuccilli looked between them.

"Girls are such whiners," Tasuki muttered, heaving himself out of the collapsed furniture. Marcuccilli began turning to him, and Mary forced herself to stand in spite of her shaking limbs. She avoided her hands, which were wrought with runes.

"I'm fine," Mary said, making a show of brushing hair off her skirt and apron, and straightening out the cuffs of her shirt. "Tasuki, that's enough. It's all in the papers." She ran her fingers through her sheared hair, already missing the familiar tresses.

"Don't be ridiculous! This guy cheated!" Tasuki argued.

"Chichiri, please do something about him. I have a job to do in the boiler room." Mary gave Tasuki as significant look. "Master Marcuccilli, what exactly is it I'm supposed to be doing?"

"Why don't we get you suited up, shall we?" Marcuccilli crossed the room to her, and held out one wide arm. Mary accepted it, feeling repulsed as she did so. He led her across the room, filled with the other staff. They watched her empathetically.

"Chichiri! We have to go after her!" Tasuki urged, taking two pained steps after Mary. Chichiri's hand reached out and caught his fiery companion.

"That's powerful magic on his side for him to be able to seal off our powers in this area," Chichiri warned. "We can't just do this with brute force."

"We can't just leave Mary with that guy either!"

"We'll have to regroup, Tasuki, that's all there is to it. Mary saved your life just a moment ago. Let's not be wasteful with her gift."

Tasuki grit his teeth and choked back his snarl. "So what now?"

"Let's see what we can find out in town about Marcuccilli. We'll come back tonight, once things have had a chance to settle."

"But you saw what he did to her last night!"

"There isn't anything we can do right now," Chichiri stressed. "Let's figure out what we can and move from there. We're burning daylight."

With a huff and snarl, Tasuki was out the door. Chichiri made a sweep with his eye across the room, and then proceeded after the redhead. He wished Mary luck, and promised to be back with some good news and ideas for her that evening.


	3. Disquiet

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Feedback, maybe??? Please???

Chapter 3 – Disquiet

- Chichiri -

Chichiri grit his teeth and begged patience, drawing on wells he hadn't since his was a younger pupil of Taiitsukun. He drew in one breath and out a second, carefully maintaining his pleasant air. He turned back to the game hunter, who was bent over a steamy kill, gutting it with gusto.

"So, you're telling me you've never heard of the game they play up at the Curled Horns?" Chichiri asked again.

"They never play games up there," the man laughed. "Well, maybe some cat and mouse with the wenches, but not much else."

"A friend of mine was over there, and she was telling me about a seer she'd heard about." Chichiri watched the man's knotted muscles heave his kill onto a hook, and begin skinning it.

"Hasn't been one of those in a long time," the hunter said, pursing his lips. "Not since my great grandfather's times, and let me tell you, she was no seer any man with two wits would drop a rusted coin to see." Chichiri was disturbed, but kept quiet as the hunter warmed to his subject. The man gave a tug on a hank of skin, and peeled it back, exposing the raw muscles beneath. "See, legend is she came to these parts from a city far to the south, and at first our kind welcomed her. The last seer had died in her trance."

There was another tear and the animal hung naked, swaying slightly. Chichiri followed the movement absently, as sunlight glinted off a cataract eye. "She settled just outside town, out where she could cultivate her craft at no harm to those around her. She was fine and dandy there for about twenty years, before strange things started to happen. The game started to get sparse, scared off, and a few children and hunters went missing. We scoured the place for bandits, deserters, wild animals, but my grandpa's story says they never found anything. Soon after that, the seer came screaming into the streets, raving stark mad."

The long knife the man was working with slid into the carcass, and split it gut to groin. He reached in impersonally and began rooting through the entrails. Chichiri was too busy thinking of the reasons why a seer would go mad during one of her own trances.

"The villagers at the time subdued her, but couldn't get a word of sense out of her. After that, demons invaded the town. The wise man discovered the seer had been grappling with a curse, and it had finally snapped. So, in order to purify both seer and land, they burned her."

"Burned her?" Chichiri frowned. "That wouldn't do anything for a curse but aggravate it."

"Well, too late for us. That's what happened. In fact, it wasn't until my father was a boy and the Marcuccilli family came that the curse was purged. His family came and started hunting and slaying the demons, until now, they're all but gone. There's still the occasional kidnapping or murder, but a hunt is always quick to follow, and usually it comes back with a demon's head."

"Well…" Chichiri pushed an old bucket towards the hunter at his behest, and stepped out of the splash zone as organs landed with a wet plop. "So, the curse has never been lifted?"

"Only subdued, but no one really thinks about it much anymore," the hunter nodded.

"Can you tell me anything else about Marcuccilli or the Curled Horns?"

"The Curled Horns came about as soon as the Marcuccillis set themselves up. It was a meeting place, and the wards on it are strong enough to repel the demons. That's why most travelers never come through town proper."

"What about this Marcuccilli? The current landowner?"

"I don't know much about him," the hunter shrugged. "He's a jovial fellow, but the private sort. He doesn't go around and boast about his business."

"What about the woman he was with yesterday?"

"My foreign friend, there are any number of women he's with. He's quite the charmer." The hunter bellowed laughter, and Chichiri sighed. He decided that this hunter would have no more to say to him on the subject.

"Thanks very much for your time," Chichiri gave him a courteous bow, and excused himself at more raucous amusement. The customs here were so strange, and he wondered how Mary had ever managed to get along in his part of the world. Well, at least he had some information about this seer. He decided to pursue it a bit further, to see if he could connect Marcuccilli's game with it.

- Tasuki -

Tasuki had gone back and forth all day long, wandering between the men in animal skins and the women with coarse dresses, similar to Mary's threadbare garment. He had chased his tail in circles, always asking about Marcuccilli and the game at the Curled Horns. Sadly, no one knew what he was talking about, and all gave him a pitying look, speaking slowly in the garble that resembled something of a Konan dialect. He'd found it difficult to understand, but as his ear grew more accustomed to their accent and lingo, he found himself easing into the strange words.

For the moment, Tasuki sat glumly on the steps of a tanner's shop, after being told for the fifteenth time that there was no such game. He was really quite sure that they were wrong, and they felt the same in kind.

The warmth of the work inside was at his back, with the cool of a deep forest day touching his cheeks. The misty dew had burned off some time ago, but a slight chill still hung in the air, promising rain. Evergreen bows drifted over his head, and long pine needles scattered about at his feet. He could smell the earthy decay of woods and sap.

It was a pleasant enough mountain town and the people were all hearty drinkers and quick to laugh and brawl. These were his kind of people, but Tasuki got the distinct feeling that something was out of place. One piece of this peaceful world was off by such a minute amount that it niggled at him until he was certain he would go mad. The previous day, when they had arrived with Mary and agreed to the game, he hadn't noticed. Indeed, there was nothing but friendliness at the Curled Horns, welcoming them in without any cause for alarm. It wasn't until Tasuki had gotten to town that he'd felt the shift of things and an insisting voice telling him to _leave_.

"Makes ya sick, don't it?" a woman's voice came, harsh and gravelly. Tasuki looked up and cringed at the unfortunate visage of a woman in her mid forties. She smiled down at him with sparse, jagged teeth and a large nose broken too many times. "This place ain't nothin' but falsity." She sat down next to Tasuki, uninvited. He put several inches between them instantly. Her gold eyes flashed up at him, more grim amusement in them.

"Jeeze! Gimme a heart attack!" Tasuki complained. Her smile grew all the more crooked and she lifted a wineskin to drink. "What're you doin' sneakin' up on unsuspecting strangers for?" he accused.

"Ya feel it too, doncha?" she answered. Tasuki sobered, looking her up and down. "That feelin' a things not fittin' right." He took in her gray dreadlocks, and the bones woven into her hide vest and tangled mane. She had a sword belted across her back and vicious hunting knife on one hip, while her arms were knotted with iron hard muscles. Liver spots were beginning to form on her hands and forehead, while freckles scattered across her peeling cheeks and shoulders.

"Have you been following me grandma? That _could_ be why I've felt so strange," Tasuki accused.

"I only followed wot was followin' _you_." She cackled like grating stones. "Ye'll know soon enough. Yer friends the new one up at the Curled Horns, ain't she?" Tasuki thought he saw a fang amidst all the jagged teeth, but let it pass as quite possibly some horrible mutation of the human jaw. Instead, he pushed her appalling nature and visage to the back of his mind, and focused on the reference to Mary.

"How'd you know?"

"I know lots, boy. Ya put up quite the fight fer yer girly," she jibed.

"She's not my girl!" Tasuki riled.

"Ain't that wotcha said ta the blue blood?"

"Only to keep his slimy tentacles off her!"

"So she's yer girl," the old woman concluded. "Yer girl, they put 'er to work in the boiler room, so they says. Funny work fer such a dainty thing,"

"What do you know?" Tasuki bolted upright, piqued now for a fight.

"I'd look out for 'im," she stood up with a groan. Tasuki saw a bear head tattooed on her shoulder, snarling viciously with a curled muzzle. "The blue blood ain't as nice as he is pretty."

"Hey! You're not done!" Tasuki leaped to his feet. The woman just grinned, her jagged smile taunting him.

"Demon!" The tanner boomed, and a scraper sailed through the air, aimed at the woman's head. Tasuki barely had time to throw himself out of the way of the instrument, and by the time he was up again, spitting pine needles out, the woman was gone.

"Why'd you do that?" Tasuki yowled, glaring up at the burly tanner. The man looked down at him severely, his tangled red beard mismatched with his bald head.

"You have to be careful of her kind," the tanner warned. "They speak nothing but lies."

"Her kind?"

"She's one of them, a Grendel," the tanner burred. Tasuki frowned, never having heard the word in his life. Demon he recognized, but Grendel left a hole in his understanding.

"What's that?"

"Their kind are wild, devil spawn. You see one, you get rid of it quick! They're the type as can break a man in two if he drops his guard, and like the grinding bones and messy types of endings. We work hard to keep 'em out, and havin' on in the village is enough to set the place on alert. I'd better ring the bell." With that, the tanner bounded off in loping strides, too fast for Tasuki to stop or catch up with. This didn't stop the redhead from trying.

He sprinted after the man, pounding along the uneven path leading to town square. It was to no avail, and he heard the bell tolling in the distance a few minutes after the man had departed. Once, twice, three times, and then the gravelly laughter of the Grendel filled the air. Tasuki looked around, but could not locate her. He pulled loose the iron fan.

After another few seconds, he felt a large number of enemies pull away from him. It was like the air was knocked out of him the sudden stillness that was left, and the whole forest went silent. Any birds and animals stopped calling to each other and froze, tensing with him, as he felt a burning glare center and focus on him.

Rooted to the ground, he was overwhelmed by such a muddled confusion of sensations that it took a full two minutes for him to sort himself out. It wasn't until the bell began tolling again that the hold was truly broken, and with a shake of his head, he was bolting to the square. He did not stop or look back until he'd skid into a crowd of people.

Men and women all wore grim faces as the tanner was shouting too rapidly and excitedly for Tasuki's frazzled mind to understand. He braced himself on his knees and huffed, feeling the cold sweat trickling down his back and sides, running marathons down his temples. He pulled the pieces of his serenity back together, and felt a surge of anger and fear in him. He _needed_ to find Chichiri and tell him what had happened. Something was wrong with this place.

Tasuki waded to the edge of the crowd, and looked up at a few dirty children standing on barrels, trying to listen. "'Scuse me kid," he lifted a boy up by the armpits and swung him out of the way.

"Hey!" the boy snorted, and kicked Tasuki's shins. "I'm not a sack a' potatoes!"

"Why you little!" Tasuki made a grab for him, but he was gone. There was no time for this now, so Tasuki restrained himself with visible effort. He hoisted himself onto the barrel and stood up, searching the crowd for the tips of Chichiri's hair or the brass on his monk's staff. He scanned for a full two minutes, and found nothing of the sort. Amidst the sea of giants, many of the men as large as Nakago had been, there was no sign of his fellow vagabond.

"Who ya lookin' for?" the boy who'd kicked him demanded from above. Tasuki looked up, and saw him seated on a thatched roof, swinging his feet. There were several other children there as well.

"Have you seen a monk with squinty eyes and a staff? He's about as tall as me," Tasuki set aside his anger.

"Not me. Oy! Any o' you mates seen a squinty monk? He's foreign, with a flat face like this one!" the boy asked his friends.

"Flat face?" Tasuki growled, but the children were too busy conferring amongst each other.

"I've seen 'im," one boy stated. "'E was 'eaded for the old monest'ry up the 'ill."

"How do I get there?"

"Jes' follow th' ol' stone road to the foot 'ills and ye'll see it up inna distance. Maybe an 'ours walk from 'ere," he answered, pleased to help.

"Thanks!" Tasuki jumped off the barrel and made his way around the crowd. As soon as he was at the edge of town and following the old stone road, where sprigs of earth and life were reworking the craftsmanship, he drew his fan. If he were to be attacked, he'd be ready. Behind him, he knew, something was following. It would not attack…yet…but it was keeping a careful eye on him.


	4. Jacob

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/n:** Please, please, review. Speak to me, please!

Chapter 4 – Jacob

Mary felt the ache strumming through her whole body, humming like a tuning fork along her spine and zinging through her arms. She'd never done such hard work ever before. Her hands were a mess, blistered and filthy from shoveling coal into the boiler for ten hours straight. She looked like a miner, smeared in soot with her wild hair matted down to her skull, and the coarse breeches and shirt she wore. She'd rolled the sleeves up for the heat, and bore three fat burns across her forearms. Sparks had blackened into tiny stars along the breast of her new clothing, and a few cinders had caused blisters on her knuckles and one eve had the audacity to land on her cheek.

Miserably, she sunk into a chair in the servant's dining hall, and leaned tenderly onto her forearms until the ache in her lower back eased. When it did, she sunk back and felt the burn as her muscles unclenched and her back found the stiff backing of the chair.

"First day?" asked the burliest man she'd ever seen. He was crosshatched in burn scars with his wheat blond hair only the faintest bur along his egg-shaped skull. There was just enough scruff on his chin to call it a beard. "Feels like you'll never walk again, doesn't it?" He gave her a smile in dazzlingly stark contrast to the grime on his face.

"If only. Maybe I wouldn't feel my legs then," Mary answered softly, too tired and raw to rise much to the bait.

"Jacob," he stuck out a massive palm, and Mary concentrated all her effort into flopping one hand into his. He caught her poorly aimed fling, merriment twinkling in the back of his eyes, and shook.

"Is this a cruel and unusual method of tenderizing meat before cannibalizing?" Mary looked at him pitifully.

"After a while, you'll get tough as iron. Trust me." Jacob replied, turning her hand over. "You should wash up. There's a well outside."

"I'm not allowed outside, not that I could make it very far."

"There's one direct path to the wash basin out back that we can walk on. Stray and we get the high volts, but so long as you stay on course, you don't have to worry. You'd better clean up or those'll infect and you'll have to work on 'em anyway." Jacob gave her hand a pop hard enough to make the blisters zing pain up and down the nerves in her arm. She jumped, disrupting the precarious balance that allowed her body to rest in a minute ache, sending new spasms of pain through her.

"You're the devil," she complained, feeling faintly tickled by recognition. Mary was grateful for his friendly advice however. She levered herself to her feet, and walked with a sea-sickening limp for several steps. Jacob took the lead. The other servants parted for the goliath like water, as they squeezed into the tiny, dank kitchen that was theirs. They were prattling away, some of them with faces dirtier then Mary's, many with dye soaked into their hands. A general feeling of good will and merriment filled the room.

"How can everyone be so happy?" Mary asked, ducking to get through the door. Jacob practically had to limbo beneath it, and crouched to squeeze through the narrow stairwell leading to their womblike kitchen.

"You get used to it," Jacob answered, pressing himself against the curved hallway to allow a few girls in skirts and aprons to scamper past. One shot him a playful smile and the other elbowed her friend. They jostled past.

"But…how can you just be happy to stay here forever?" Mary demanded, feeling like a mole tunneling upward. Jacob's hunched form seemed to bloom suddenly as they emerged into a narrow but much taller hallway, the walls here in straight lines and constructed of stone blocks, rather then carved bedrock. Mary paused a moment to breath in clean air.

"Many of us find ourselves preferring this life to the one before."

"So you trade in one pair of shackles for another?" Mary asked. Jacob cocked his head to one side, leading her again down the hallway. He seemed to consider her question seriously.

"You keep shuffling your fate until you find one that suits. Isn't that what everyone does?" Jacob replied at length. Mary frowned faintly, and paused as he opened a door to the outside world. Evening poured down onto her, the stars pinpricked in a breathtaking panorama, expanding forever in all directions, obscured by the feathery strokes of tall pines against the sky.

"I can't imagine forgetting the past," she answered distantly. She was trying to remember when she'd seen a sky quite this magnificent. The air had never tasted so sweet, edged in the evening cool that would quickly become dew.

Jacob had no reply for her, cutting along the stone lined path leading up a hill to a pump. She saw the energy flickering along the path in a tunnel shape, shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Her heart sped up as the distinct lines of their path became more concrete, before a breeze shifted by, sliding past her sticky neck and loosening the sweat soaked cloth from her pulverized frame. The broken pine needles beneath the two boiler room slaves wafted up into her nose, and she eased.

She recalled a tree from a long time ago, a hazy recollection of a childhood moment in the bright sunlight. A mixture of despair, resolution, and dedication welled in her. A call from that hazy memory struck clear through to her bones, and she remembered how rough the bark was on her back and shoulders, and the immobility of it. She'd made a pledge there…

"Hurry up," Jacob called, already pumping water up. "We'll miss dinner." Mary stumped up the rest of the way, her muscles complaining, as her back argued irritably with her as she bent ever so little to hold her hands beneath the faucet. The water coughed and sputtered a few times, before a burst of icy cold water showered onto her hands. She jerked them back, and then carefully eased them back under.

Steam should have been curling from her hands after all of that fire in the boiler room. She slowly worked her hands and scrubbed the coal and soot off, feeling the sting of her burns. Mary splashed water onto her face as well, and ducked her head under the spigot. The jarring cold woke her again, as she rummaged her fingers through her hair.

When she finished she tilted her head back and felt tiny rivers stream beneath her collar and down her itchy back and sides. Several drops plummeted along her collar and shot down her chest, drawing gooseflesh. She smoothed water out of her hair, and her muscle memory was surprised when she came up short with her jagged haircut. Mary recalled the days when her hair had been even longer, and how good it had felt warmed by the sunshine and sliding down her back.

Her mind flashed to Kendall, the woman with all the answers. She had pursued Kendall for many years, trying to reclaim the pieces of her that had fallen away like the fragments of a broken mirror. Kendall held the salve that could piece things back together, and Mary had never relented in her pursuit. Everything else had fallen by the wayside.

"We'll miss dinner," Jacob repeated, and Mary snapped her eyes open. She felt foolish, and drew in a last breath of air.

"It feels like I haven't breathed for ages," Mary said with a satiated sigh. Jacob had doused his head and hands as well, and looked a mite cleaner. He had very pale skin. He must have been working in the boiler room for a long time. The skin exposed at his chest looked soft and delicate, and his face had steep angles.

They returned inside with a parting glance at the sky, and waded through the crowded interior. Jacob shouldered his way into a seat, and Mary followed his lead, clinging to the only familiar face in the room. It was quite the tussle to get anything to eat, but the sharp edge of hunger and the chill still clinging to her scalp were enough to get her into the fray and snag a few morsels. Jacob had done well for himself, and when he glanced at her plate with sharp blue eyes and noticed she was under stocked, he tipped his plate just enough for a fair amount to settle on hers.

Mary looked over at him and gave him an exhausted smile. Jacob didn't bother returning it, just went back and applied himself to his food.

Jacob left dinner shortly after that, as the other men cleared off plates and broke out cards and dice. Mary let Jacob leave, not wanting to cling too much to him, and sensing a withdrawal in his mindset. She instead fell back into the shadows to watch as men scrounged with meager coin to buy mugs of ale. Some of the women joined in, while other set about mending their clothes or stitching together in patches of old garments new ones.

Bone weary, Mary could only linger a little with them, before she drifted off through the catacombs of the underground passages. It took some time, but she managed to stumble up into the upper halls, which wound about behind the curving building, and after a time, emerged with a grunt into the common room.

She stood wide-eyed, looking at the quiet and well-swept chamber, blinking owlishly. She'd been told specifically not to come here during operation hours, and to her relief, it was deserted. She plunged back into the tunneling, resolved to call it a night, and hoping she had caught no one's attention. The last thing she needed to do was break more rules.

Her whole body felt like lead, but she tried to stretch her arms and back as she went, hoping tomorrow she would be able to at least unclench her fingers. She quickly gave up on this as her world narrowed to the increasingly complex pattern of right foot, left foot. The click of her own bootheels faded into the background and cool drafts stopped reistering on her numb skin. After fifteen or so minutes, Mary could go no further. She simply toppled over and slept where she fell.


	5. Friend and Foe

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Thanks a bajillion for the review! It makes life so much more bearable! Please keep me updated on any thoughts, questions, comments, concerns you might have.

Chapter 5 – Friend and Foe

The steps up to the monastery seemed to wind on forever. Tasuki pounded up the mountainside as fast as he could. At least by now he had grown accustomed to the sensation of being watched, and it seemed that at the moment, his peeping tom was willing to let him simmer on a backburner. This had relieved Tasuki, who was certain to go mad before long.

The shadow of night had finally come over the trees, and what had been pleasantly cool shifted into chilly. Mountain air got sharper and seemed to knife through Tasuki's lungs as he ran. He was driven despite the reduced vision and increasingly harsh elements to get out of the dark before the dark came to get him. The unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach kept increasing.

The Grendel kept flashing through his mind, with her grim smile and bemused expression. She concerned and perplexed him, and it made him uneasy on Mary's behalf. After two months of traveling with her, he'd come to accept her quiet presence as a constant in their wanderings.

For a girl, Mary was a hardy traveler. Her boots had probably seen more miles then both Tasuki and Chichiri combined. She was gentle and level headed, and a contrasting quiet to the chatter he expected from women in general. Leaving her bound up in chains was simply unacceptable, even if it was to collect information. That he could not find any humiliated Tasuki.

"Hang on, Mary!" he promised her, pounding harder yet. He wasn't sure if he imagined the shift of pace in a pursuer, or if indeed it was real, but it was all the further prompting he needed to barrel up the last of the stairs. He didn't stop until he slammed into iron-enforced doors, pounding on them. "Hey! Open up! Open up!"

For a few panicky moments, he worried that they wouldn't let him in. The stress of the day and confusion of his situation made Tasuki nervous. He shied away from the door several steps as it gave a shudder and jump, before groaning painfully open. A golden shot of light lanced through the darkness, blinding Tasuki. He held up a hand, squinting inside.

"Tasuki!" Chichiri called, and Tasuki's face lit up. He was relieved. A dark blur slammed into him, and he toppled to the ground and clattered down the front steps of the monastery. The ancient hinges moaned shut, and a grating lock was set in place. Tasuki sorted out his arms and legs, and found Chichiri was whom he disentangled. "Evening," Chichiri gave him a sheepish smile.

"What the hell?" Tasuki demanded, scowling at him.

"I got kicked out," Chichiri stated.

"Well I can see that! What were you doing?"

"They didn't believe me when I said anything about being promised a visit to the seer after winning the number game at the Curled Horns," Chichiri explained. Tasuki gave him a disgruntled look, and then hung his head.

"This whole place is messed up," Tasuki answered glumly.

"You too huh? Nobody seems to know what we're talking about. I even pantomimed the game for some of the customers," Chichiri sighed, his shoulders slumping. They sat a moment in the still night, and Tasuki felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He lifted his head slowly, turning it one joint at a time to look back down the trail.

Above them, the monastery's windows were lit, throwing colorful glass illuminations onto the uneven clearing on the foothill crest. Tasuki followed the images of vibrant winged beings outlined bit by bit until his eyes had climbed to the very edge, where a pair of feral eyes gazed back at them. The light caught and reflected eerily, flickering as the onlooker blinked watchfully.

Tasuki had stopped breathing, and forced himself to let his breath out. A plume of steam curled away from him, but no other muscles moved. A tangible silence filled the air, falling like snow and slowly weighing heavier on their shoulders.

The eyes moved, and both Chichiri and Tasuki tensed, half assuming defensive crouches. The tips of Tasuki's fingers braced in the damp earth, and he felt the tension of his arm muscles. With focused effort, he relaxed them, for better reaction time. The eyes slowly moved forward, a booted foot slipping into view, followed by a rough hand and a crouched body.

The Grendel rose before them, her face looking harsher in the garish light. Slowly, she rose to her feet, dreadlocks sliding over her shoulders, and held up her hands. She looked each man down, those animal eyes of hers pinning and dissecting, keeping her opinions masked. After a moment, she took a step back and melted into the shadows.

"Wait! Grendel!" Tasuki called. "What are you? Whose side are you on?"

"She ain't who ya think she is," her voice grated against his ears, and oddly enough, Tasuki found it a welcome relief. He felt as though he weren't mad, as she acknowledged there was something afoot. It took a moment for her words to register.

"Whaddya mean?" Tasuki demanded, slowly standing. Chichiri followed his lead, and refrained from puncturing the conversation with questions.

"That game, the numbers. They ain't real, jes' a tricka the eye. She got caught 'cuz she ain't got herself straight."

Tasuki understood that he knew very little about Mary, but Grendel's words made him pause. He found himself thumbing through their short history together, trying to apply this new theory. He found himself turning back to their first meeting, when she'd been exhausted and come into the Inn, carrying a heavy pack on her shoulders. She'd been bedraggled and windswept, but her face had seemed so strikingly familiar to him, to the point that gooseflesh had risen on his arms.

When she'd asked to join them at their table, his hackles had risen. In later reflection, he'd attributed it to drink. But Mary had looked so tired and so lost that Chichiri had taken pity on her and insisted she join them. After that first night where Mary had joined them in drinking and loosened up, blooming like a flower at their kindness, Tasuki had set aside a whisper in the back of his head.

That whisper returned full force, managing to crowd out the other confusion in his mind. He knew her. He _knew_ he'd seen Mary somewhere before, recognized something raw in her that seemed to resonate in him. Tasuki scoured his mind, but found himself coming short.

"What's going on around here? Why doesn't anybody understand what we're saying?" Chichiri ventured his own question. Tasuki looked up as the Grendel smiled.

"Don't take my help so lightly," she cautioned. "The game isn't as much fun without enough players." She winked at them, and bolted into the woods.

"Hey!" Tasuki shouted, as both he and Chichiri tried to follow her. They fanned out and hunted a moment, scouring the darkness for traces of her path but there was none. Really, Tasuki shouldn't have been surprised, but he was furious. Was she an ally or not? "I'm gonna burn her to cinders next time I see her!" he promised.

"You know her?" Chichiri asked, as the retraced their steps to the monastery. They stood a moment in the colorfully fractured lighting, both following the razor edged spires up into the sky.

"Not really, no. She found me at the tanner's, when I was asking around." Tasuki proceeded to relate the story as dark clouds roiled in over their heads, rumbling ominously. Chichiri listened, and pulled on his basket hat just as it started to rain. The cold droplets spattered on Tasuki's head and raced down his scalp to chill his shoulders and throat.

"I don't think we can call her a friend," Chichiri said at length. Tasuki laughed.

"She's closer than anybody else in this place," he snickered.

"Why don't we call it a night? We still have to check on Mary." Chichiri suggested. Tasuki shook some water out of his eyes and spun around on a heel, marching resolutely away from the useless monastery.

"I could use a drink," he mumbled.


	6. Familiarity

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

Chapter 6 – Familiarity

"Miss your room?" the barmaid asked when Mary opened her eyes to the insistent prodding. Mary blinked, grit in her eyes. "You'd better hurry. They're very harsh on late workers."

"Where am I?" she asked, unfamiliar with the drafty hallway. She levered herself up, and felt every muscle in her body practically tear. Her face contorted and she drew into a fetal position, feeling impossibly painful. Her back and shoulders felt as knotted as an old oak while her arms tried to wither.

This sensation of muscle burning exhaustion was familiar. She'd felt it before, though she couldn't remember when. She felt uncommonly vulnerable, and yearned for the presence who had guided her through a time like this once before. Who was it?

"You _should_ be that way. Go down the stairs on your left and keep tunneling until you reach the boiler room. It's the most direct route, but it's the farthest from where you were supposed to sleep." The barmaid said. Mary worked to sit up, forcing herself to ignore the acid burn of abused muscles, uncurling her fingers one by one and straightening the joints in her arms in order to sit. Her back moaned, and the vertebra seemed to pop. A crick was in her neck, sending pain lancing upward with every heartbeat. The barmaid squatted, and took a corner of her apron. She wiped some of the grime off of Mary's face. "You're a real mess," she smiled.

"Have Tasuki or Chichiri come back?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Who?"

"There were two men I was traveling with…one's a drinker, the other's a monk," Mary explained.

"I'll see what I can find out. In the mean time, you'd better get moving. They're very harsh on lateness," the barmaid urged again. Mary stood up and shambled in the indicated direction, and found the descending stairwell narrow and choking. As she stumbled deeper, the air got warmer, and it seemed to soothe her muscles just a little.

The tedious track downstairs got her limber enough to the point that she wasn't hobbling, and she focused on trying to soothe her neck and work her lower back a bit. She was still itchy and sticky, and she could smell herself, a sensation she wasn't accustomed to. But it was soon drown out by the smell of hot metal, soot, and smoke.

She emerged into the boiler room, and saw her fellow workers. Jacob spotted her first, and there was a masked look in his blue eyes. He was carting more bits of coal to be shoveled in by a haggard, much smaller worker. Mary recognized the smaller man as her counterpart.

"You're late," came the harsh accent of their overseer. His fist threw the air out of her lungs, and she doubled over. "Five lashes for that." Mary's mind screeched to a halt, fumbling for a response. Before she could come up with anything, the man was lashing her wrists together with a cruel satisfaction.

He hoisted her bound palms onto an overhead gauge and pushed the back of her itchy shirt up, exposing her smooth skin. She braced herself, hearing the whip crack against the ground as the man took a few warm up swings. Mary's heartbeat sped up, blood singing in her ears. She struggled to free her hitched hands, feeling the pull in her muscles and the grinding of her shoulder joints. She had to stand on tiptoe to support her weight.

"It won't happen again! I'm sorry!" she pleaded.

"One!" he shouted, and she heard the lash sail through the air. There was a definite crack, but it was not against her skin that it echoed. Her eyes snapped around, and she saw Jacob lifting her arms up and over the imprisoning gauge. They were warm and rough, grating against her softer fingers. "What's this?" their supervisor demanded.

"It's a first time offense. I didn't get lashes until my third," he answered, unknotting the restrictive knots around her hands. Mary looked up at him, seeing no emotion. She felt a swell of self loathing, and a deep admiration for him. A dizzying sense of déjà vu struck her, and she hunted in his regal face and sharp eyes for some familiarity.

"Who do you think you are?" the man snarled, and the whip struck a second time. Jacob didn't even flinch.

"What are you doing? Stop!" she yelled, trying to jerk Jacob out of the way. She wanted to curl her fingers around the overseer's throat. Jacob kept her from doing anything irrational, bringing her to the furnace and handing her a worn shovel.

"The lashes can come from your hide then. Is that your idea of chivalry?" the boiler man jeered. Jacob turned an icy stare at him, and Mary felt her stomach drop out. She knew that look.

"We're behind already," Jacob stated, and the boiler man swallowed once. Jacob left without another word, and Mary saw the gashes in his back, flayed in two raw lines with blood slipping down. The skin was red and puckered around the wounds.

"Get to work!" the boiler man shoved her, jarring her out of her daze. She thrust her shovel into a heap of coal bits, and tossed it in. Her body fell into the painful rhythm easily, as her mind drifted after Jacob.

Why had he saved her? He'd given no real reason, nothing that would prompt such an action. She remembered his voice. Deep, rich, tantalizing in its masculinity. He exuded power and presence. How had he ever ended up captured here?

Her mind was quickly unable to process anything at all, however. It just became the dull, clanging scrape of metal against coal, the snap and roar of the fire, and the occasional grunt from a worker. Her hands burned as blisters formed and broke, as her hands were worn down to the bone, almost literally. The muscles in her back, shoulders, and arms mellowed a bit, as the morning stiffness was beaten out of them and they again became tender.

The pause for lunch came at last, and Mary stomach was suddenly able to break through her mechanical movements to tell her how cripplingly hungry she was. The muggy boiler room became repugnant as a sour body walked past, headed for the kitchen. The urge for fresh air struck her, and Mary scoured the room for Jacob. He was already gone.

She trudged upwards, feeling ready to collapse. In a haze, she stumbled back and forth, circling that main, outer hallway until she finally tumbled out the back door.

The ground was wet, the air cool and misty. It had rained, and she saw the shimmering droplets still hanging on the pine needles. She forced one foot to follow the next, and climbed up the hill to the well. Her eyes were focused on the duplicitous roots along the path, until she heard the pump. The metal hinges whined in high pitches as the pump brought up water. Mary saw Jacob working it, and he ducked his head beneath the icy stream.

A bucket had been filled, and a clean rag sat in it, waiting to be used. Mary slid her hands into the flow of water, scrubbing off the dirt and soot, before she bent and collected the rag, wringing it out.

"Thank you," she said softly. Jacob shrugged his shoulders. He pulled his shirt up over his head, and sat down on a nearby stone. Mary set a hand on his wide shoulder, and began to clean out the wounds. She marveled at the paleness of his skin. "You remind me of someone I knew," she told him.

"I could say the same about you," Jacob replied. Somehow it didn't surprise Mary. It felt natural that they should have found each other in this horrible place.

"Was she pretty?" Mary prompted.

"I can't recall."

"Me neither," she smiled. Her fingers curled around his shoulder, and one brushed over the glossy seam of a scar. She felt a thread of old alarm and fear rising in her like the sharp smell of sap after breaking a branch. A stab of anger shot through her on his behalf, a jealous demon rousing. She wanted to know who had injured Jacob so, and make him pay.

Mary turned her rage to the overseer, who would leave permanent scars on Jacob's wide back, to mingle with a few older marks. She imagined the look on his face when she slammed her shovel into it, and had to reel herself back from actually planning an uncomfortable demise.

The memory of that tree came back, the rough bark biting into her skin. She recalled a deep yearning, reaching for someone she couldn't touch or hold.

"We'd better go," Jacob said when she finished. She released him, and he pulled on his shirt, lacing the ties around his throat. Mary nodded, wringing the bloodied rag out. There were footsteps approaching them, and Mary spotted the barmaid.

"I found the monk and the drinker," she said, bobbing a curtsey to Jacob. "They came in late last night, and have only just gotten up. They've done nothing but scour the village, asking about Master Marcuccilli and a seer of some sort."

"Thank you so much," Mary expelled a sigh of relief. She wanted to go directly to them.

"They were inquiring about you, and I just told them that you were still getting used to the place. I didn't want them to come breaking down the door. Your redheaded friend was much louder about his concern then the monk. It must be nice to have such people looking after you," the barmaid gave her a shy smile, and Mary blushed.

"They've been looking that hard?" Mary asked softly, feeling guilty. She hadn't even known them that long. Why were they doing this?

"You must have quite a way with men," the barmaid giggled. A piece seemed to slide into place for Mary, and she stood up a bit straighter. Yes, she always _had_ had a way with men. No concrete memories filled her, but a new security came over her, wiping away some of the recent vulnerability.

"It would seem so," she answered, shooting a sideways glance at Jacob. He gave her the bemused smile she remembered from the night before, a sort of wry appreciation.

"I'm sure the pair of you didn't get a thing to eat, and I _knew_ you hadn't had anything," the barmaid seemed to recall suddenly. "I brought these for you." She provided a few cold sandwiches and an apple each, holding out the basket that had been hanging on her arm.

"Thank you so much," Mary smiled. She and Jacob both accepted her offering. As Mary plunged ravenously into the sandwich, she examined her benefactor. The barmaid was young, her sandy blonde hair pulled back in a small braid, with a bright smile and something of innocence left in her. Her small frame and narrow shoulders were delicate and feminine. "What's your name?"

"Belu," she answered. "And you're Mary, right?"

The name, for some reason, didn't sound right. Mary faltered a second, before she nodded. Jacob shot her a peculiar look, which unnerved her further.

"You'd better go," Belu suggested, bobbing another curtsey. "They're very harsh when you're late." She turned and hurried away, as Mary smiled openly, shaking her head. Jacob tipped the red tinted water over, taking bucket and cloth with him as they proceeded down the hill. She paused to let him enter first, and he did so without thinking, depositing the bucket in a small nook with other cleaning supplies, before both of the descended to the steaming depths.


	7. Race

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying it! I certainly have had a blast writing it! I don't think it'll be a zillion chapters, and things should start to heat up pretty quick.

Chapter 7 – Race

Mary looked like Hell. Tasuki bolted upright, rigid in his inspection. Her hair was clumped about her head, face streaked with dirt and soot, her hands torn to pieces by burns and blisters, and her clothing rumpled, torn, and singed. He smelled her long before he saw her, and it made his nose curl.

The whites of her eyes and her teeth were the first things he could distinguish as she smiled in relief at them. Tasuki didn't wait two second before he had drawn his iron fan and was storming towards the common room.

"Tasuki, wait," Mary sighed, putting out a hand to stop him. The palm was torn to pieces, the injuries textured by filth. He could see splinters in the web between her thumb and forefinger.

"I'll kill him," he snarled. "I'll tear his throat open with my bare hands!"

"You saw what happened last time," she told him, her fingers closing around his sleeve for balance. "You'd better not push your luck until you have something that trumps his powers." Tasuki grit his teeth, glowering at the floor. He was too ashamed to meet her gaze. "You wouldn't mind if I took a bath?"

"You look like you could use it," Chichiri came forward and took one of her arms. She tugged at Tasuki's sleeve.

"Come on. You can tell me what you've found out so far."

"Nothing," Tasuki spat, shrugging her arm off. He stomped towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Mary chorused with Chichiri.

"Downstairs for a drink!" Tasuki thundered, strapping the fan back onto his shoulders.

"Let him go, Mary. Sometimes he just needs to work himself out," Chichiri coaxed behind Tasuki, who didn't look back. He thundered downstairs, making a point of slamming his foot on each step, stormed across the room, and threw himself onto a bench in the corner, at a small table by one of the main hearths. The fur trader at the shop he put himself next to glanced at him, before going back to his sales. Tasuki snuggled back deeper, pressing his shoulders against the cool panes of glass, where the night air was beginning to condense into dew droplets. Steam sprang onto the window from the impression of his body.

"Get me whatever will knock me out the fastest," he growled at the pretty blond barmaid ominously. Her hair was bound back out of her face, exposing large gray eyes.

"How will a drunken sloth like you ever help Mary?" she demanded.

Tasuki looked up at her, startled. He examined her seriously this time, and recognized her as the little maid who'd been asking for Mary's traveling companions. She had banged on every door in the inn and caused quite a ruckus, and when Tasuki had ignored her insistent knocking this morning while he snoozed in the tub, she'd come in through a wall panel for servants.

"_Why didn't you even tell me you were in here?"_ she had demanded quite cross. Her small hands were fisted on her hips, cheeks ruddy from the exercise.

"_Hey! Get the hell out! This is my room!" _he had argued.

"_You should learn basic manners and answer a lady when she's looking so desperately for something! What kind of man are you? I could have been in trouble, and you'd have let me die by some marauder just so you could laze about in your tub!" _Her righteous fury had not dimmed at all, and Tasuki had been quite irate that she was impertinent enough to stay and audacious enough to refuse to apologize.

"_My manners? What about yours?" _he'd yelled back. _"You come bursting into my private rooms and demanding things from me! I don't even know you!"_

"_And that should pardon you? I'll have you know I'm looking for someone, so tell me if you've seen them! One's a monk, and the other's a drinker! They've been traveling with a woman named Mary!"_

Tasuki had choked then, and she'd swirled away with a "hmph!"

"_Wait! What about Mary?"_

"_I'm sorry; I'm still looking for her friends. I wouldn't want to bother an important individual such as yourself!"_ she had snapped back.

"_Hey!"_

But she had already been leaving and would not stop. Tasuki had reacted on instinct, leaping from the tub and grabbing her by the shoulders. He'd spun her around and shaken her, demanding to know what she had to say about Mary. She had turned up her nose in his face.

"_I don't speak to indecent men!"_

A hot blush had stained Tasuki's cheeks, but he'd dragged her by the arm into the bedroom, and thrown a towel on, not releasing her until she had disclosed that Mary was worried about them and wanted to know where they were. He'd sent her off to assure Mary that they were fine and waiting to hear from her, urging her to run as fast as she could to do this and motivating her with a swift blow to the rear from his fan when she had stomped very slowly down the hall.

Tasuki blushed again, feeling it crawl from his cheeks to his ears and scamper down his neck. He glared at her severely, and she returned in kind, her small mouth drawn into a scowl with her dainty eyebrows angled ferociously.

"What is it with you creepy women? Just bring me my drink! That's your job!" he told her harshly, and she lifted her chin defiantly.

"I'll do no such thing, not if you're going to be any use to Mary," she declared. Tasuki leaped to his feet and gripped her shoulders.

"Listen you crazy wench!" he said severely. "You're not my mother, okay? Now go get me my drink, or send someone else over who will!"

"You don't scare me, you red plumed cockatrice!" she stated virulently. "You're harsh and crude, but not much more then a regular man here! You couldn't possibly hurt me!"

"Fine! I'll get the beer myself!" Tasuki lifted her by the shoulders and set her out of the way, before making his way towards the bar. He wove through the crowds and tables, and heard little footsteps following him. The serving girl gripped his coat and began to pull backwards. The top of her head would have barely brushed his chin, so he was surprised at how difficult she made walking.

"Oh no you don't! You've got a job to do! A lady to protect!" she grunted, her feet sliding across the polished floors. A few people turned to look at the spectacle.

"Let go, you crazy brat!" Tasuki growled, pushing harder on the floor. She was loosing ground quickly.

"There's no use in you slobbering over an ale! You should go and figure things out! She needs you!" the girl persisted.

"I'll do just fine on my own!" Tasuki argued. "I don't need you telling me what to do!" With a jerk, he was free, and the barmaid fell backwards. He faltered a split second and looked back, hoping she hadn't injured herself for fear of the ruckus it would cause. She instead scrabbled up, and shot around the table, trying to reach Jasper, the bar tender, first. "Not on your life girly!" Tasuki vowed, running now too. There were excited cheers from the men around them, and Tasuki thought he heard bets.

"I want a beer!" Tasuki called, pulling out a wad of cash and waving it around. Jasper looked up.

"Don't do it Jasper! Don't do it!" the barmaid called. She had removed her apron and was flinging it back and forth like a flag.

"I'll pay double!" Tasuki urged himself to go faster. Her small legs seemed to go impossibly fast.

"I'll pay triple for you not to give him a beer!" she called. A roaring amusement and excitement shook the building. "And I'll work for free for a month if you refuse him any beers at all!"

"What? How the hell am I supposed to pay a months' wages for a beer!" Tasuki shouted. They were coming up on the bar now, the final stretch. Tasuki put on a burst of speed, and glanced over at the barmaid. She saw him going faster and sped up as well, just as another barmaid got into her way, carrying a heavy tray of beers. With a squeal, the girl duck and skid beneath, sliding on her dress, which rode up her slender legs. Tasuki saw her get up and keep going. He looked back at his own trajectory, and saw another barmaid do the same. A man reached out to grab her out of the way, but there wasn't time enough.

Tasuki pivoted on his foot, throwing himself out of control and stumbling. He clipped his hip on another table, sending him ricocheting in another direction, and spotted the bar. The little maid slid in front of him just as he was going to slam into it with his chest. Panicked, he reached out with both hands, the palms slamming against the edge of the raised counter on either side of her small shoulders, and trying to slow himself.

Panting, his heartbeat thumping noisily in his chest, he rested his forehead against the bar. He could feel the maid's rapid heartbeats fluttering against his chest, as both of them caught their breath. She smelled like beer and pine wood.

"Doesn't a man deserve a beer after all of that?" he looked up pleadingly at Jasper, his cheek brushing against the girl's. Cheers erupted, and until then, Tasuki had missed the intake of breath and ensuing silence as everyone anticipated the collision. Jasper picked up a glass, and began filling it. Tasuki stood up straight, and looked down at the girl. Her face was red to the roots of her hair, and she was staring intently at his chest. "Get her something too. Put it on my tab," Tasuki sighed, looking back at Jasper. Her face shot up to his and darkened.

"How can you?" she demanded. "It'll be too late! They're so harsh when you're late!" Her small hands shoved him out of the way and Tasuki let her go, pushing through the crowd.

"Hey!" he called after her. She was gone. Tasuki was compelled to follow her, but men surged forward, clapping him on the back roughly.

"That's the way to show 'em!" one guffawed.

"Give 'em and inch and they think they own ye!" another agreed. Tasuki tried to get away, but there were too many people. So, he accepted his drink, and another, when it was bought for him. Then there was another, and another, and he forgot completely about the barmaid.


	8. Pact

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Xata, you're one of my favorite people ever. You've really kept me going on this thing! Anyway, stuff is happening now! This is an action packed chapter! I like Belu...a whole lot.

Chapter 8 - Pact

Chichiri sighed, and shook his head. Mary was soundly asleep on her bed, with strict instructions that she was to be awake again by four. Physical injuries aside, he could see the toll on her already. There were bags under her eyes and she looked pale. And yet, all this aside, she looked slightly altered. Chichiri didn't know why, but there was a minute change in her appearance.

Setting this line of thought aside, he looked over at her traveling pack. Neither he nor Tasuki had touched it since Mary had been carted away, but he felt the compelling urge to root through it. Not in an attempt to violate Mary's privacy, but more because the Grendel's words kept echoing in his head. Mary was confused about who she was? How could that be? He knew that Mary was looking for this Kendall more desperately then she let on, but he had assumed it was a chapter to her past she needed closure on. There was nothing to send up red flags in his mind…not that he'd done much asking into her history.

Standing, Chichiri quietly crept towards the pack, before seating himself and popping open the clasps. He peeled the worn leather back, and peered inside. Carefully, he reached in and withdrew a cotton blouse and then the calico skirt beneath that. They were both threadbare and full of mended seams, almost falling through his fingers like water with their suppleness. He set them aside and pulled out the herbs and provisions she carried, and dove deeper. A map drawn on animal hides fell across his palms, and beneath that was a small journal.

Bingo. Chichiri was about to open it when his eye caught on the makeup set at the bottom of her bag. He paused and stared at it mournfully, remembering seeing Mary carefully touching up her appearance every morning. She had such a love for it, carefully applying the colors with such relish that it made her seem girlish. She would have no time for such simple pleasures now. Chichiri recalled watching her shop so carefully in a bazaar for the exact shade she wanted. When asked, Mary had said she'd just always loved makeup, and that it was a constant no matter where she was.

Pushing this to the back of his mind, he opened the diary, hoping he'd be forgiven for this grievous breach in her privacy.

The Gods did not smile on him this day.

The script was completely unreadable, something foreign to him. There would be no way he could read this, not in the least. That is, unless he found someone who _could _read it. Chichiri quickly repacked her bag, hoping it looked just the way it had, and set it back in it's place. He glanced out the window at the moon, and saw he had five hours left before he needed to return and wake Mary. Silently, he slipped out the doorway and closed it softly behind him.

He paused in the hallway, wondering who to ask. Tasuki would be of no use, nor would any of the men downstairs. Practically everyone in this village would be worthless, all of them either in on Marcuccilli's con or apt to mention it to a friend who was. The servants probably couldn't be trusted, so who then?

"Grendel…" he murmured, and his eye shot around the hall. He had no idea how to find her or if she would listen, but he figured the odd huntress would be his best bet. As Tasuki had said, she was the closest thing to an ally they had.

Chichiri descended the stairs and found Tasuki in a knot of drinking men, singing loudly and waving his mug around. Chichiri shook his head, and went out the front door, into the dark evening. He paused once outside, not sure what direction to go, or where to start looking.

Tasuki had said the whole town was put on alert at the sighting of a Grendel. Maybe someone in the square could tell him something about these Grendels. Chichiri set out at a brisk pace, when he heard the door open and close behind him. He looked back, and saw one of the other barmaids coming out into the evening. It floored him. He hadn't thought that anyone was allowed out of the building.

"Master!" she called hoarsely, venturing a few steps further. "Master! Can you hear me?" Chichiri melted into the shadows, and bumped into someone.

"It's a pleasant evening for a stroll," came Marcuccilli's voice. One of his hands clamped down on Chichiri's shoulder, and pushed him onto the road. "Eavesdropping isn't very nice. It's a dirty habit you should kick."

"Master! Belu was trying to help the new girl, that Mary! She was goading one of her traveling companions-!" the servant stopped suddenly, realizing that Marcuccilli was dragging Chichiri after him. The nobleman sighed, and shook his head.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag. I want you to find Belu, and bring her to me. Let the others know that if she's seen, she's to be detained. I've let that dog lie too long." Marcuccilli jerked Chichiri, and the book clattered to the ground. "Ah? What's this?" Marcuccilli snagged it before Chichiri could stop him.

"A prayer book," Chichiri lied, but Marcuccilli smiled under the moonlight. His skin almost seemed to glow it was so pale, and the barmaid ventured closer. In the shadows, Marcuccilli's eyes looked almost black as he studied Chichiri, and then the book. He flipped it open with one hand, holding it up to the moonlight to see the letters.

"A journal. How quaint," he smiled. "And prying into Mary's thoughts, no less." Orange flame suddenly burst to life and consumed the pages until they fell as ash between Marcuccilli's fingers.

"No!" Chichiri gasped, unable to stop himself. Marcuccilli released him, clapping dust from his palms, and set them on his servant's shoulders. He bent and kissed her forehead, and she sighed.

"Now go and do as I bid." He gave her a flirtatious pop on the rear, and sent her giggling inside. Turning to Chichiri, he tilted his head. "I assume your errand is taken care of. Why don't you have a drink with me?" Chichiri's limbs sprang into motion, carrying him forward.

"What a generous offer," Chichiri stated, smiling grimly. He was marched by invisible wires inside, after Marcuccilli was so good as to open the door for him. There was an unceremonious dumping of himself into a chair, seated at a lone table. Chichiri glanced around the room, and realized suddenly that most of the barmaids were gone. Who was Belu?

"What'll it be?"

"Just some water, thanks," Chichiri answered.

"Nonsense! Two ales!" Marcuccilli commanded, leaning his elbows on the table.

"So, who is the Belu?"

"An errant thorn in my side since she got here," Marcuccilli sighed, looking skyward for patience. "She's a sweet girl, really, just too headstrong for her own good. She riles the others up from time to time. I've simply been too lenient."

"How could anyone possibly be riled against _you_?" Chichiri demanded in mock surprise.

"Belu's been here a long time. I'll be sorry to see her go, but one must do certain things to keep the peace." Marcuccilli took the mug placed before him, and forced Chichiri to do the same. Chichiri argued with his fingers, prying them loose numerous times, fumbling the large mug, before a surge of white hot power forced him to accept. So Chichiri took to spitting up the offensive beer, before his jaws and throat were controlled as well. "You're a stubborn one," Marcuccilli admired.

"You'll find stubborn runs in my circle," Chichiri promised, watching his hands remove his mask.

"What a history that must have for you to cover it so," Marcuccilli smiled at the scar over the monk's bad eye. Chichiri was allowed to shrug his shoulders, and then forced to drink again.

"Stop it! Let go of me!" came a girl's voice, and Chichiri turned his head. The room hushed, as several women dragged the blond into the room. An angry shout tore out of her throat, as she writhed and struggled, her hair half loose with bruises forming already on her cheeks.

Marcuccilli stood up with a scrape of his chair, and her eyes suddenly landed on him. They widened, and her struggles became more fierce. She kicked one woman, and bit another, managing to break their hold at least slightly. With this moment of weakness, she writhed free and began to tear through the room.

"Stop her, she's a thief," Marcuccilli commanded. Chichiri opened his mouth to protest but found his teeth already clamped shut. The men in the room seemed to suddenly leap into action, and as Chichiri's heart constricted, he watched her narrowly avoid two men and scamper through the room three more steps. One caught hold of her dress and yanked, sending her careening backwards. She struggled against him, and made him release when a flailing limb caught his groin. She dove under a long table, clawing across the floor and skittering out the other side.

Belu managed to throw herself over a chair and onto a table, where she hefted up her skirts and kicked beer mugs at people to get them away. She looked around, and jumped, catching onto a chandelier of deer antlers, pumping her legs furiously to get some momentum. Men were swarming, climbing onto the tables to reach her, but she at last managed to loop her legs up onto the chandelier, and then clamor higher in the multiple tiers.

She kept going, even when she'd reached the top of the thing, and shimmied hand over hand up the chain it hung from. It was a valiant effort, and Chichiri prayed she would get out, hoping against his better judgment. A knife sailed past and lodged in the ceiling, but she didn't look back. Instead, she kept going, as more knives aimed for her.

Belu even made it up to the rafters, and managed to climb onto one and begin crawling across it, just keeping momentum. Her hair was a mess and her face was blotched with tears and fear.

Finally, a knife clipped her rib, and she jerked to one side, losing her balance. With a screech, she tumbled down, and Chichiri's cry of dismay was lost in a sea of shouting. He watched as men surged in slow motion and her arms flailed. A red blur shot past all of them, stepping on backs and skulls, before Tasuki landed beneath her and caught her in his arms.

The iron fan as in his hand in a moment, and it struck several men's faces, blowing all of them back. A sober frown was on Tasuki's face, one arm still supporting Belu, and she watched, wide-eyed.

"Try and take her," he said gutturally, staring every man in the room down. "She's no thief! Try and take her from me if you think she is!"

"You couldn't even protect your girl," Marcuccilli laughed over the hushed awe in the room. "Besides, she's mine already." Belu screamed, and black runes like Mary's suddenly appeared on her arms. She threw her head back and seemed to try and break her spine in two as hard as she arched backwards. The veins in her throat and temples stood out, while her face went red.

"Stop it!" Tasuki screamed, dropping the fan to cradle the girl. Her eyes rolled back in her skull as another wave wracked her with pain, fingers clawing at his jacket. "Stop it!"

"She's a thief," Marcuccilli halted the pain, and Belu collapsed in Tasuki's arms. The red head jostled her, pushing hair out of her face.

"Look at me, dammit," he commanded. "Say something!"

"She must pay the price, as any slave who goes astray."

Belu screamed again, tearing at Tasuki's coat and back. Chichiri felt a lapse in Marcuccilli's control of him, and leaped into action. He slammed the butt of his staff into Marcuccilli's ribs, and Belu collapsed. Chichiri managed to land another wailing blow on the surprised Marcuccilli, as Tasuki gathered Belu up and bolted for the door.

Chichiri tried to strike a third time, but found himself thrown backwards into a cluster of men, who grappled with him. He hoped Tasuki had enough time to get Belu out of harm's way, until he heard both Tasuki and Belu scream. The sound of electricity buzzed in the room, and Chichiri could smell singed hair and skin, and taste the static on his tongue. There were two thuds, before Chichiri was restrained and hoisted up.

The other two lay on the floor, smoking. Both were unconscious, their hair standing on end. Marcuccilli clicked his tongue and strode towards them, his boots thumping against the floor hollowly. A ribbon of blood wound down from his forehead.

"Let go of me!" Chichiri struggled.

"Anyone who attacks Lord Marcuccilli is no friend to us!" one man growled in his ear. Several grips on him tightened painfully.

"Are all of you crazy? He's a monster! He imprisons these people!"

"People?" Marcuccilli halted, and turned to look back at him. There was a disgruntled and offended look on his face, and he took a few more steps and rolled Belu over onto her back with a boot. He jammed his toes into Belu's ribs, and she sputtered, rolling over onto her side. "This is no person. Hell, if you asked, she could not even define herself. If she were not here, she would become a monster."

"I…" Belu wheezed, flopping onto her belly. "I make…a pact…" Marcuccilli looked down at her and clipped her jaw with a firm kick. Her head thumped against the ground, and a strangled sob escaped.

"Stop it!" Chichiri strained. Belu coughed twice, and spit out blood and a tooth. Tasuki growled from the floor, trying to get off of it. His arms shook with the effort.

"I'll make my pact…Grendel…" Belu rasped.

"Silence! Impudent girl!" Marcuccilli snarled, pulling his leg back for another blow. His foot sailed forward, aimed at her head. Chichiri swore he could hear the whistle of air around it. Tasuki grunted, catching the blow with both arms.

"Don't hit girls," he wheezed.

"Grendel! My soul for his death!"

A bestial howl rose in the air behind them, sending a shudder through the room.


	9. Chaos

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Guess who!

Chapter 9 - Chaos

Jacob sat up. The whole place felt wrong. The howl ripped through even these underground chambers, and he swung up nimbly in spite of the ache along his back. He wove through the passages expertly, wading through a gaggle of the others. His blue eyes were fixed on the entrance to the common room of the Curled Horns.

The Grendel was coming. There was only one thing that could mean. Someone had finally given in to her dark promise. He moved more desperately, pushing his fellow slaves aside, before pounding up the stairs three at a time, and heading the tide of curiosity that spilled into the deathly silent room.

Jacob did not stop as the others had. Instead, he shouldered through the crowd of free men, headed for the front. He noted the chaos and overturned tables, spilled ale, broken glass, and scattered hunting knives. But his attention was on Marcuccilli, who had bent everything in his power towards fortifying the walls around them.

The bell in town was ringing, echoing through the mountain village and penetrating the glass panes. The building, which for so long had stood as an impregnable binding and safe house, trembled at the Grendel's roar.

Marcuccilli jerked a step backwards suddenly, the air around him crackling, as his sleek ponytail bristled with electricity. Jacob felt the power jittering through his own teeth, almost rattling them out of his skull. He saw Belu on the floor, bruised, beaten, with bloodshot eyes. Beside her sat a red head on his knees.

Jacob recoiled. His insides turned to molten glass as rage choked in him. Every cell in his body screamed that this man had done him a great wrong. These emotions almost got the better of him as he strode forward, until Marcuccilli's sharp swear broke the spell. The nobleman twisted as he summoned all his power to keep the Grendel out, knowing full well it was futile.

The fire pits in the room surged, growing as warm as the boiler room. Jacob felt sweat slide down his back, and ignored it as he bent and pulled Belu to her feet. The red head looked up at him, and both men locked gazes. A jolt shot between them, striking each between the eyes, and they backed away involuntarily, as if cringing from a blow.

"It can't be…" the red head whispered. "You…you're _dead_."

"I'm sorry Jacob," Belu hiccupped. He looked down at her, her weak arms dangling in his palms. "I can't do this any more…I can't remember anything at all, and I won't wait for the last pieces of what I do recall to be devoured by him…I'm not strong enough to be saved…" she hung her head, unable to look up at him.

"I'll kill you myself!" Marcuccilli snarled, a dagger gleaming free of its sheath. He moved to plunge it into Belu. Jacob turned to look at him, trying to put all the pieces together. Sparks showered before his eyes like the tail feathers of a phoenix.

"She made her pact!" cackled the Grendel, her craggy face elated. "She has opened her eyes! She knows what the others have never found!" Her iron muscles threw the formerly unstoppable man backwards, and the Grendel turned her golden eyes to Belu. The girl looked up, her gray eyes full of tears.

"Grendel," the red head on the floor addressed her. "What is this place?"

"Shh, boy. Ya were just the ruckus I needed," the Grendel answered, her weathered hands taking Belu's cheeks. "Ye've shaken the bones ah this ancient place just enough fer me ta get through. Hush, girly. I'm here."

"I'm so tired…" Belu looked up at her, tears hanging like bits of chandeliers from her lashes. The Grendel's eyes softened, and she smiled.

"I'll make you free."

A jolt ran through Jacob's body. He snapped away from Belu, taking a few staggering steps back. His fingers twitched from the zap, and he blinked to clear his blurred vision. The Grendel stood forehead to forehead with Belu, her eyes closed, as the whole space around them seemed to moan and almost fold inward.

Belu's eyes were focused hazily on the Grendel, before they languidly turned to him. They seemed to sharpen.

"Go get her…" she mumbled, and shut her eyes.

Mary.

Jacob turned and bounded across the room as the bolts in the rafters rattled apart. A nervous murmur filled the room, before a man shouted for everyone to get out. It wasn't Marcuccilli's voice. Jacob didn't care, as the fires in their pits shot up towards the ceiling, licking the wood flirtatiously. Jacob's world narrowed to finding Mary, as he began tearing doors off of hinges, looking for her. There were murmurs from sleepy inhabitants as they came into the hallway to see what was happening, but they were not his concern. He shoved past a burly man in a night cap, who shouted incoherently after him.

Mary had told him she would be with her comrades, upstairs. He couldn't remember the room. His heartbeat was thumping too loud for him to make out the terrified gibberish of a woman as she threw herself at him. He thought she might be begging for information, but he peeled her hands off of his tattered shirt and kept moving.

Finally, his hand closed on a doorknob, just as two bestial howls erupted from downstairs. He faltered a fraction of a second to look back, as the door opened and he followed it. Jacob bumbled into Mary, who stood bleary eyed and alarmed, peering past him.

"What's happening?" she asked him, looking up as she rubbed one eye. His heartbeat was suddenly silent, as he focused completely on her.

"We have to get out of here," he said, taking her hand instinctively.

"My things…" she said absently, but he gave her a pull.

"No time."

Mary stumbled after him, her abused frame too weak to go very fast. Jacob paused only long enough to sweep her up, and then bolted for the stairs, shimmying and jockeying past now terrified occupants as they darted about and tried to drag their gear along with them. He had no time for this. It was his turn to save _her_.

Who? Who was he saving? A stranger he'd met only a day ago? A woman who'd prompted him to place himself between her and the whip?

There was no time for this! They had to get out!

"Watch it!" Mary called, and he skid to a stop. Part of the floor caved in, and there was a hideous crack and pull, as if bones were snapping out of place. Roiling heat shot up from beneath them, blowing Mary's wild hair out of her face. The place gave a lurch, almost tipping Jacob over and down a floor. A chandelier crashed to the ground, followed by an earth shattering bellow.

"Come on!" Mary slid out of his grasp, and stood at the crumbling edge of the stair. She looked down below, and pointed. "That's a stack of pelts for trading there. If we aim right!" She didn't bother finishing, and just hopped over. Jacob followed without a second thought, her reaction too quick for him to preempt.

He landed beside her, and they scrambled up and out. A monk was herding people out as the room gave a distinct shift, and lurched one end up. Jacob skid down the floor, crashing into the bar counter. He saw Mary coming at him and caught her, jumping over the bar with her as furniture slammed into the spot they'd been standing only seconds before.

"Mary! Mary!" They both looked up at the sound of someone calling. The red head had braced himself in the main entrance. The outside world beyond him looked crooked. "Chichiri! There! She's over there!"

"I'm coming!" the monk called back, and proceeded to slide and bound down the catawampus floor, vaulting over tables, chairs, and stools. He pulled off the patterned cloak he was wearing as he soared towards them, and dropped it down over their heads as he landed with a little grunt. He looked up at them, and his one good eye widened while he paled visibly.

"_You…_" he whispered.

"Hurry Chichiri!" Mary called, grasping Jacob's hand. Chichiri jumped, shut his eye, and Jacob felt a hole open beneath him. He dropped through it, Mary's fingers laced with his. As he was falling, a hand wrapped around his ankle, and followed them through.


	10. Memories

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi or Middlemarch characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Ah, the mystery is solved. Thoughts, anyone? No resolution yet. It's still coming!

Chapter 10: Memories

Mary tumbled haphazardly onto the ground, feeling the bite of sharp stones as she skid about a foot. The landing had been rough, and was not helped as Jacob skid into her. He managed to adjust his slide so he didn't crash into her, and skid painfully to a halt just beside her.

"What's going on?" Chichiri was saying, but Mary's eye had caught onto what had skewed their trajectory. Marcuccilli was standing, facing the Curled Horns. Mary followed his frozen gaze, and saw the building being ripped apart. A flat, triangular head jerked out of the earth, shaking dirt and rock off, wailing in pain. It looked something like a toad's head.

Even from this distance, Mary could hear the grinding pop of bones as they were pulled apart. Something was ripping the beast to pieces from the inside out. The toad gave a great heave, levering itself out of the ground, shaking and stumbling. Mary watched with baited breath as it moaned, and its legs snapped and gave way. The Curled Horns rested on its back, tumbling to pieces, and flaming deep inside. A belch of fire shot out of the swollen throat, consuming the trees hungrily, as the crippled beast tried to worm away from its rebelling insides.

"Damn…" Marcuccilli growled, clenching his fists. "Never thought I'd lose one to her." The night was lit up orange as the fires caught and spread. Jacob was already on his feet, watching intently.

Something was gnawing at Mary's consciousness. A fog had swept into her mind, and through it, she could hear familiar echoes. They were crying out, beckoning her to follow them back to who she had been.

"Not much time left," Marcuccilli turned now towards the two slaves and the monk. Chichiri had distanced himself from the whole group, his eye darting between Marcuccilli and Jacob suspiciously. "I'd better get what I can." He took a step towards them and Mary climbed to her feet, braced now for an attack. In three more steps, he suddenly dissipated and became mist, swirling. What had been his form walked right through Mary, and as she turned to follow his movements, she saw that the whole mountainside draped in a milky veil.

"Chichiri!" she called, unable to see him. She backed up a step and found Jacob's back.

"Mary, do you know who you are?" Chichiri asked through the fog. She took a few steps towards the sound of his voice. "Do you know who I am?"

"What kind of question is that?" Mary asked, feeling a thrill of fear.

"Why were you looking for Kendall? What's she mean to you?" Chichiri's voice was grave. Mary stopped walking, and examined the dark shadows around her. She felt the fog much better then she saw it, everything faintly tinged in orange and silver from the fire and moonlight. Behind her, she could feel the heat, while ahead, the fluffy shapelessness of fog curled languidly by her cheeks. She felt suddenly very a lone.

"Kendall is the first person I can remember," Mary replied. "I don't even know how old I am, and I have no memories of my life before I saw her. I've felt like she would know the answers if I could only follow her."

"Do you know that man, the blonde who came looking for you?" Chichiri pressed, his tone a bit gentler, but still edged in firmness. Mary searched her memory, trying to break through the blindness that choked her.

"I remember him as if from a dream," she answered, looking into the fog earnestly. "I know him, but I can't say how." Chichiri was silent, as if searching for the right words. "Chichiri? Where are you?"

In the fog, the image of a man became apparent. It was at first only his silhouette, blurred at the edges as it continued to solidify. Color began to leak into it, turning into a rich blue cloak, the green scales of armor, white sleeves, dark boots. The last color to melt into place was the pouring of golden hair, sliding past his regal cheeks, and fringed over his cerulean eyes.

"I know you…" she whispered, her eyes widening. She reached out, great relief and yearning filling her in a colossal flood. The image watched her with unfeeling eyes. Yes, she knew this scenario, had witnessed it a hundred times. It was the beginning and end of her universe, the one pair of eyes she wanted to behold and love her. "Please, don't run from me any more!" she urged, picking up speed.

One arm extended to her, a feral gleam in the azure gaze, reflecting the fires raging beyond the fog. Mary ran for him, straining her fingertips as she reached out to him.

"I've found you! I've finally found you!" she almost wept.

"Stop!" someone shouted behind her, but Mary's hand slid along the sinewy fingers of the mist illusion. Her hand was closed over, and she was pulled into a tight embrace. She buried her face in the familiar, clean scent of the soap he'd always used to wash his soldier's clothing and the herbs in his hair. His embrace was firm and commanding, just as she remembered. He was a man without weakness, a creature beyond salvation, and yet he had always been good to her, and never masked his intentions, a symbol of respect.

"Finally," she sighed, exhilarated. Closing her eyes, she reveled in ecstasy she'd never thought she'd feel again. Just to see him made all the recent hardships worth it. "Nakago," she purred his name, forcing her frame to meld against his.

The confounding fog in her mind burned away all at once, lifting in the graceful folds of stage curtains.

_- I Never Knew Such Kindness -_

_The bark grated against her back, gnawing at the smooth skin between her shoulder blades. The client's rough hand was large and heavy, demanding. She was tired, so tired. But this was the first man who hadn't paid, who hadn't been let through the carefully guarded gates at the front of their establishment. No, this man had followed her to the edge of town, to her secret place in the woods where she escaped._

"_Come on, girly," he jeered, his other hand reaching for her bright coat. She jerked her shoulder back, catching it on the tree. A zinging pain lanced through her arm, tingling through her fingers and smarting up to her shoulder._

_She didn't know what to do. It was too far to cry out for help, and he was too strong to get away from. Her eyebrows were knit, as hot tears swelled in her eyes. She looked up, pleading, searching for compassion and gentleness._

_All at once, his eyes widened, pupils dilated, and his frame had arched towards her. She was confused, trying to step back and catching her heel on a root. His grip loosened, before he'd tumbled backwards. As he fell away and his shadow over her vanished, the sun lit on an equally as brilliant blond head, affixed with falcon-like blue eyes. Her breath caught, convinced she beheld a sky spirit._

_Suddenly, it became a man. His sharp, pale cheeks were set without emotion, gazing at the dead man. A sword hung naked in his hand, tipped in vibrant read, cutting off the glean from the sunlight. He stooped, wiping the blade clean on his victim's dirty jacket, before sheathing it. Without even looking at her, he'd been turning to leave. The hitch in her voice made him halt, and he'd turned to look at her._

_All at once, the sunlight felt wan and watery. The sky and earth fell away, leaving only him. Even the breath in her lungs was cast out, leaving only a vacuum. He was the world, brighter then all the celestial bodies, more divine then any god there ever was, and more merciful then even Buddha. He, a complete stranger, a being of transcendent light, had deigned to save her, a lowly prostitute in the pleasure districts._

_And he looked away from her. She fell a thousand feet back to the ground, and felt the fetters of her reality crawl back over her skin once more. A searing fire demanded oxygen in her chest, and she recalled that it was her duty to serve her house, and bring in the customers. He strode away, opening up chasms between them, an ever-widening gorge she felt she couldn't fill._

_Or could she?_

_Her heartbeat skipped a few measures, and the jitter moved one foot forward. The surprise at her own boldness allowed her eager feet a few more steps, before she caught herself. She trembled on the brink, balancing on her toes with her arms spread, gazing into a void. It yawned, hungry for her defeat, challenging her. He kept walking as a soldier beckoned to him._

"_Why'd you stop? Stuff like that happens all the time. Part of life," the other soldier smiled. He was faceless, a vulgar who shouldn't have spoken to her savior. Her savior didn't say anything, but his silence was enough. Her fetters and fears broke, crumbling like rust-eaten iron. She sprang from her cage, and her feet pounded against the ground._

_The rasp of air in her lungs and the ruckus her heartbeat made were the only things she could hear as she headed for her savior. Her world narrowed to him once more, but he didn't turn around to look at her._

_A scabbard suddenly shot out before her, and she skid to a halt. Her eyes lurched to the faceless soldier._

"_Where do you think you're going, missy?" he demanded. Her face hardened, and she scowled._

"_It's fine," the savior said. That was all she needed. She bound herself, body and soul, to him._

_- The Little Things -_

_He had rough hands, callused from swords, scattered with only a few scars flecked along the knuckles. They were wide palms, with graceful fingers._

_- Always You -_

_Cold. He had gotten colder. Always moving farther away from everybody. She was the only one he extended a bit of a bridge back for, leaving faint signs for her to follow, and follow she did._

_- Anything I Could Do -_

_Makeup. He never said anything about it, but it made her feel better to just have it on. She wanted to shine all for him, lend to his image of power and poise. It was her war paint, a ritual every morning, layering protection and serenity thicker and stronger then any steel. _

_The brothels had taught her one thing: appearance was everything. If she appeared calm and confident, especially as a woman, she could throw a man off kilter. He would wear himself out anticipating her. It was her strongest asset, that simple repetition of freshening up. It gave her a buffer, a face to offer the world, in place of her vulnerabilities._

_- The One Thing I Could Never Have -_

_Envy. If only he would look at her and speak as this man spoke to the illusion she created of his lover. She set out to kill him, was bent on destroying the woman he loved, for the happiness of the man she loved. It was nothing personal. She sympathized with the clumsy brunette and her faithful lover. If only the man she loved would say one word, give her one look that these two shared._

_But it was not the way of things. She loved him, she would do everything she could for him. And that was the agreement. He could never love, both of them knew it, and yet she could not resist that thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, he would see._

"_You won't find him that way," she said, and the frightened brunette looked up at her, eyes large. Yes, it was envy, and some sorrow for her own choice to suffer, bound to him forever. But these two, perhaps they had a chance. A thrill of butterflies shot through her, recalling hearing the other man's words to who he thought was his lover._

_- I've Always Loved You -_

_Pain. A breath gurgled into her lungs, filling with blood. She felt the sword blow, felt it catch between her ribs. But she could smell him, feel the muscles beneath his armor as they tightened. The devoured her, and she hunted with blurry vision for something to latch onto. It had all been instinct, putting herself between him and that sword. _

_Her vision crystallized on him. He was, after all, the beginning and end of all things. She tried to smile, and felt blood ooze between her teeth. Copper and bile mingled on her tongue. What a sight she must have been._

"_I…" she felt the words gurgle in her throat. "I've always…" She urged herself to say it, to speak what she'd never said before. But they wouldn't come. Her jaw felt heavy, her tongue swollen. Panicked, she leaned up towards him, her fingers tightening around his armor and cloak. He was warm in spite of the cold gray on the battlefield. "I've always…" her voice gave out. She felt it snuff itself out, and her heart stopped._

_It was cold and she was falling into oblivion. Her vision faded, the darkness encroaching in inky slowness. He looked dismayed, his pupils dilated, as if perhaps it was really he who'd been struck by that sword._

'_What is it, Nakago? What broke you?' she wondered. 'I wish…I wish I'd been able to help you better…'_

_- I Never Wanted to Part -_

"_Do you wish to go back?" the golden-eyed woman asked, as she sat next to the silent gates in the haziness of the world between worlds. She tapped ash out of her long pipe and stuffed in fresh tobacco._

"_Yes," she nodded._

"_It will exact a price."_

"_I'll pay it. Anything to get back! I can't find him here…he didn't come! He must have gotten lost!"_

"_Anything you say?" A peculiar expression was on the ugly features of the body vendor, as she struck a match. The light gleamed in her eyes, reflecting back out like a wild beast's._

"_It doesn't matter. Whatever you take from me, I'll overcome it! I can do it for him!"_

"_Your memories. That is the price for re-entering on the other side, even with just this half 'n half body. Your memories belong to me." The woman cackled at the second of hesitation._

"_I'll do it," she murmured. "I'll find him anyway. There's no way I couldn't."_

"_Then you may pass."_

- But It Seems I'll Never Reach You -

Soi felt the familiar drain in her mind, and felt the pieces of the puzzle falling away as quickly as she had just put them back together. She opened her eyes, looking up at Nakago.

"Nakago?" she asked, feeling hazy and tired. Marcuccilli smiled back down at her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Go back to sleep, Soi," he purred. Soi felt something fall away from her, and turned her head. The body she had used for so long fell over backwards, beaten and bruised. The recent injury made the vessel look shabby, and Soi realized how delicate it was. A part of her would miss that innocence the body and memory void had given her.

"I have to find Nakago…" she argued, trying to pull away. Marcuccilli hushed her, and closed her eyes with two fingers. It was too much energy to fight her. She was so tired…who was it she was looking for? Na…N…she couldn't recall…


	11. Vengeance

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

**A/N:** I hope this isn't too much flashback and revelation all at once...

Chapter 11: Vengeance

Nakago…

The name echoed in his skull, and fractured images scrambled about like so many writhing Coi. Every time their scales flashed in the illumination of near comprehension, a memory struggled to resurface. He couldn't grasp any of them.

Jacob shook his head, and waded through the thick fog. He felt it brush by, chilling the cold sweat on his ash streaked skin. Mary had taken off through the heavy mists too quickly, following a phantom of her former life. He followed the direction she had vanished into, slipping away before he could stop her. His instincts screamed that this fog was evil, but Mary had cast it away for this Nakago. A stab of envy seared through him.

"Lord Nakago!" a woman called, projecting strength in her voice. Jacob turned without thinking. The slightly deep timbre struck a chord in him. His eyes narrowed.

A tall woman in armor was approaching him, and as the fog pulled away from her features, he saw the careful makeup and long maroon hair that had faded in and out of his subconscious for years. He took a step back as she dropped to one knee, bowing her head.

"Lord Nakago, I've found you," she said, relief in her voice. "It's been so long." She looked up, and her wide eyes were filled with tears. A shadow of dismay filled her features as he remained immobile, trying to remember her name. "It's me, Soi."

"Soi," he tasted her name. He felt a faint stirring in his chest, and the writhing memories struggled in a frenzy to reach him. The clamp would not release yet. "Tell me, Soi," he began, his tone aloof, regarding her with hooded eyes. "Remind me who you are."

"You are Lord Nakago, and I am Soi. We are two of the Seiryuu Seven, servants of the Priestess of Seiryuu, Lady Hongo Yui." Soi replied. "We fought together against the Suzaku Seven and their Priestess, Miaka. You and I…we were lovers." Jacob felt something coil inside of him. "Lord Nakago…I've been looking for you! I've been searching for two years, trying to find you, and now we're finally together!" she stood and moved towards him, but he crossed his arms and gave her a forbidding look.

"I do not recall, Soi. Tell me more," he prompted. She stopped in her tracks, a distraught and anguished look wrinkling her smooth brow and shadowing her fair cheeks.

"Lord Nakago…you led the Seiryuu Seven to victory against the Suzaku Seven, allowing Lady Yui to summon Seiryuu, the dragon God. We raised an army and marched on the neighboring country of Konan, and then returned to our country of Kouto and slew the Emperor there."

"Why did we turn on our country?" Nakago quizzed her. He was getting closer to unlocking his memories, as the mist curled around his face. He could feel the binding Marcuccilli had placed on him sizzling, growing more and more excited.

"Because he was a horribly unjust man! He did terrible things to you!" Soi replied vehemently.

"And why did I serve him then?"

"For vengeance!" she confirmed, her hands fisted, glaring fiercely at the ground.

"You were there when I killed the Emperor? Did you have no allegiance to him?"

"Only to you, Lord Nakago," her face bloomed, smiling at him with loving intimacy. The binding was at the breaking point. It was jumping, trying to leap from his skin, reaching for Soi.

"Were you there?"

"I…no…" she looked down. "I had…died in the fighting…"

"Then how do you know?"

"I followed you! I wanted to look after you!"

Jacob stood silently. The binding was commanding him to take her into his arms and hold her. It was everything he could do to keep from allowing his body to do as it would. But his mind was too aware of the mist curling around him, too conscious of the fact that he wanted too badly to take her in and breathe in the smell of her powdered cheeks and carefully conditioned curls.

"Tell me who I am," he said softly.

"Lord Nakago…"

"Is that my real name?" he demanded. Soi looked up at him. He was taller then she by about a head. Her face softened.

"Gi Ayuru," she said.

_A red field accompanied his bone weariness. He stood – barely – panting and surveying the carnage in the setting sun. This was his first battle, the first real clash of swords, encompassing hundreds of men in all-or-nothing melee. It left him exhausted, bearing wounds that almost left him without strength. He teetered precariously, almost sprawling over the corpses at his feet. The earth squelched as he stumbled, the soil saturated with red blood. He'd never seen such a flare of crimson before, and the smell was horrible._

_He heard someone behind him, stumbling. Snapping around, he saw only the maroon hair and frayed clothing of the girl. She'd followed them for a month now, hanging back behind the caravans, keeping an eye on him. It was almost creepy, but she never opened her mouth to protest or call out to the others. The soldiers let her be, but teased him raucously for the little phantom creature she seemed to be._

_Today, rather then the usual treats she brought for him, she carried a bundle of medical supplies, their container slightly bloodied. Apparently she'd stripped a dead medic of his things. Her shoes had worn themselves to pieces, and had fallen off a week ago. She'd been barefoot since. Each step lifted a dainty foot covered in sullied earth, but she seemed to have no objections as she made careful progress._

_He watched her slow progress, following the tilt of her head as she peered over the package clasped tightly against her chest, and the way she seemed to test the ground before putting her weight fully down. She couldn't have been much more then ten or eleven. She winced as her foot caught on something sharp, but kept going._

_More movement made him reel around, as the chink of armor and moan of leather alerted him to a potential threat. A soldier with three arrows jutting from his back gave a yell, his blood soaked face twisted in anger and determination. The man lunged, and the boy lifted his sword, catching the blow. His muscles were weak and tired, and the wounds screamed in pain. He gave ground, losing to a dying man._

"_Don't you touch him!" the girl shouted, and she vaulted out of nowhere onto the soldier's back, grabbing and twisting at arrows. With a scream, she was thrown to the ground, where she thumped and tumbled over a corpse. The soldier returned to the boy, when her small arms wrapped around his waist, struggling to pull him back and away._

_Determined not to waste this prime opportunity, the boy stabbed, driving his sword deep into the man's chest. The jerking motion he'd made to free himself of the girl landed the blade in his shoulder, and he gurgled painfully. One of his large hands closed around the boy's throat, while the girl scrabbled up the soldiers back, using the arrows as tree branches. She climbed up onto his shoulders, her tiny fingers clawing at his cheeks, and slid her thumbs into his eyes. He bellowed painfully, tightening on the boy's throat. The joints groaned, popping, as his eyesight blurred._

_There was a brilliant flare, and he felt a distinct KAZAT spasm through his system. His blond hair stood on end, while static snapped at his fingers as he removed the suddenly limp hand of his assailant. The man stood smoking for a moment, as the smell of singed hair and hot metal filled the boy's nose. The girl was still holding onto the soldier's face, her hair frayed and with static, before the soldier fell backwards._

_The boy stumbled over the corpse and dragged the girl up, as she was busy trying to orient herself. He squatted and searched her face, pulling open the neck of her shirt, and lifting the sleeves of her weathered tunic. He saw a faint glow suddenly along her left leg, and hitched the skirt up until he located the symbol emblazoned and glowing on her upper thigh. "Chamber" stood out against the smooth skin._

"_You're one of the Seiryuu Seven…" he looked up at her, his blue eyes startled. She just blinked at him, her shoulders hanging loose with her hands curled limply before her. Her thumbs were bloody to their bottom joints. "Soi," he said her Celestial name. She looked up at him._

"_My name's not Soi," she replied, and he took the corner of his cloak. He lifted one of her hands and wiped away the blood. "I'm Bai Hua-Wan."_

"_You're name from now on is Soi. You're a celestial warrior for the Priestess of Seiryuu," he corrected her. She frowned, and looked down at the mark, still lingering on her exposed flesh. Timidly, she placed a finger on it, flinching, as if she expected it to be warm._

"_Who are you?"_

"_Nakago," he answered. Her eyes fixed on his face._

"_That's not your name. Come on. What's your real name?" she prompted. Nakago gave her a severe look, and she dropped her eyes demurely. It hardly suited her, after he'd watched her gouge out a man's eyes for him. Wait…for him? Yes, it had certainly been for his sake. Such blind faith could be nurtured. He needed an ally._

_His mind wandered to that cold spot in his heart, gnawing quietly like gangrene, slowly spreading and killing his emotions. As time went by, he grew less and less attached to those around him. He wanted them all gone, all dead, to pay in spades for the sins commit against he and his tribe. A young, trusting creature such as this could work to his advantage, especially if she had some control over lightning. _

_Soi's large eyes fixed on him curiously, trying to follow his train of thought. She would be pretty when she grew up. Even now, she was poised to blossom in perhaps another year. That brothel he'd found her in must have earned a juicy profit already._

"_Please? Tell me your name?" she asked softly._

"_Nakago," he repeated. He would never again utter that name, the one that had been powerless to save himself and his kin. A surge of bitterness made the skin on his arms prickle, and his muscles wound tight, recalling other humiliations. It was Nakago's powers that preserved him. "I have no name but Nakago."_

"_What's a Seiryuu Seven?" she asked._

"_A mandate from Heaven. We're supposed to protect the Priestess of Seiryuu, who will one day save our country. She will be given three favors from our God, the Dragon Seiryuu," Nakago explained, recalling the dusty texts he'd spent the last several years poring over._

_Soi reached up and her petal-soft hands settled on his cheeks. She gave him the irresistible smile of youth. Her family name Bai stood for white. It fit, matching her pale skin and the sweet face, completely disarming when it gazed at him with such adoration._

"_Make me a promise?" she asked. Nakago gave her a no-nonsense stare. She would need considerable work before she could truly be called a "Celestial Warrior." "Promise that you'll tell me your real name when we summon Seiryuu. That's my wish, okay?"_

_Children, he thought with a sigh. He stared back down at her with those large, almost green, almost gold eyes of hers._

"_Promise," she commanded gently, her hands not willing to release him until he did. He could have pried them off without batting a lash, but instead he just gave her a nod. It immediately struck him. He had never promised anyone anything. With a smile, Soi released him, straightened out her skirt, and clamored to her feet. "What am I supposed to do, as a Seiryuu Seven?" she asked, adjusting her weight tenderly._

"_That," he nudged the corpse. He saw her wince, and then the effort to school her expression into one of nonchalance. Yes, she could be molded._

Nakago focused on this Soi. He had never told her his name. If there was only one thing he knew, it would be that this was a fraud. He opened his arms anyway, forcing a smile onto his face, and she dashed towards him. Her shapely frame melded against him and buried her face in his chest. He closed his arms around her, and breathed in that familiar perfume.

The contact sent him awash with memories. His fingers tangled in her hair, their first tumble together, and her ardent devotion. The neatness of her clothing, the gleam of her pristine armor, the carefully arranged jars of makeup, how soft her hands were in spite of everything against his bared skin, that sharp tooth on the left side of her upper jaw, all came rushing back. And then, the painful expression her face, the attempted masking of excruciating pain as she drew her last breaths, and his inability to even move and hold her in that moment of her utter solitude.

For a moment, he just wanted this illusion to be real. He owed a great deal to Soi, to the woman who'd thrown herself away for him.

He recalled suddenly the pain of death, and the sensation of Tamahome's fist punctured clear through his body. The desertion of power, that return to weak Gi Ayuru, was unnerving as Seiryuu was sealed away by Miaka, the bun headed moron. And Tamahome's pity…pity for sins, pity for the monster that Nakago had become. It sent anger through him. He wanted no pity, and burned anew with the desire for destruction.

"This cheap trick is what's been holding me?" Nakago asked softly of "Soi." He tightened his grip around her, and felt the celestial symbol paint itself on his forehead slowly, burning away Suzaku's binding. Soi's breath hitched.

"Nakago…you're hurting me…"

"I never told Soi my name," he said. "I broke my promise to her." The sudden enlightenment made the fake squirm, as she tried to get away. He wanted vengeance anew. "Where is the Suzaku Seven member named Tasuki?" he asked, recalling it was Tasuki's blow that had been fatal to Soi. He would start there.

"I-I don't know," the fake stammered.

"Then you're of no use." He tightened his arms and felt her back snap twice, before dropping her to the ground. She felt at an odd angle, and lay there. He recognized her suddenly as one of the other servants, a favorite of Marcuccilli's. He swung his eyes around the hazy landscape, and sensed both living members of the Suzaku seven somewhere on the mountainside. Resolved, he set out after them.


	12. Puppetry

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Again, please review. Silence...makes me all suffocatey...and not good.

Chapter 12: Puppetry

Chichiri was dismayed, completely locked where he stood, witnessing both Mary and Jacob become two people from a past dead and gone. Neither Soi nor Nakago should have remained, and yet here they appeared before him. Mary's body had fallen away and left a weakened Soi balanced in Marcuccilli's arms, while another servant had crept up on Jacob, and the celestial sign had painted itself once more on the powerful man's forehead. How had these two fallen so far, and how had they lingered here in this world?

"Often it's the greatest souls wot get lost," the Grendel said, standing next to him. Now she was throwing her cards on the table. She crossed her arms, watching the scenes unfold before them, and the eyes of the bear tattooed on her shoulder seemed to gleam.

"What's happening to them? How did Marcuccilli ever capture Nakago?" Chichiri asked.

"Souls get lost all the time," Grendel shrugged. She released him, and Chichiri rolled his shoulders. It was getting to be too often that he was being held hostage in his own body.

Chichiri had stood and watched as Soi and Nakago had gone in opposite directions of each other, and had seen Soi's blind eyes searching for him, stumbling in the direction of his voice. It was dark out, but there was a crisp moon and they had fallen into sparse covering of trees.

Marcuccilli vanished with whatever remained of Soi's drained spirit, both fading slowly into the dark, dissipating like the afterimages of light flares on his eyes. Nakago's celestial symbol blazed intensely over the corpse of Marcuccilli's false Soi, and turned to look at Chichiri. Even as altered as his shaved head and scar striped arms were, his blue eyes pierced Chichiri to the core. He felt like an insect to be dissected. Nakago began to move forward, and Chichiri took a step back.

Grendel reached out and clamped an iron hand on his arm, holding him in place. Chichiri lifted two fingers and tried to teleport out of the way, but her fingers tightened and he was unable to. He looked at her, horrified, and then back at the ominous footsteps of an obviously enraged Nakago. The burning glare of his sent chills through the monk.

They were three footfalls apart, then two, then one, before Nakago vanished a hair away from Chcihiri's face. The spasms in his heart turned even more erratic as Chichiri searched for his foe, but could not find him.

"Relax. He can't touch yeh yet," Grendel told him, letting go of his arm. Chichiri jerked away from her, doing another sweep. He was certain Nakago would come from nowhere.

"What do you mean yet?" Chichiri demanded. "Where is he?"

"He's dead. You saw him die yerself, didn't ya?" Grendel scoffed.

"Then why is he here?"

"There's too much hate in 'im. Yeh think dyin' made that better?" Grendel was still smiling, and she pulled out the hunting knife at her hip. She held it up and caught the moonlight on it, turning the phosphorescent reflection this way and that. Thick mist curled about them, exposed by it. "The other world's seepin' in," Grendel preempted Chichiri's question. "That'd be death, the world of spirits," she added. Her arm came down and she took a few steps towards what was left of the husk Soi had occupied. She squatted, and lifted one wrist.

"How did this happen? What are they doing on our side?"

"They're between right now," Grendel let the limp arm fall. It struck the ground, crunching softly against pine needles. "Whatever made ya help her? Soi. Couldn't ya tell who she was?"

"I had no idea…we just happened into her. What happened at the Curled Horns? Who are you?"

"Mm, she roughed it up pretty good," Grendel muttered, before heaving the body upright. She held it like a limp doll, supporting the sagging weight with her brawny arms. "So, ya plannin' ta help her again?"

"It's about time you started answering some questions, old lady," Chichiri told her, very sick of being jerked one way and then the other. Grendel smiled.

"What do answers matter? Ya helpin' her or not?"

"And why do you care?"

"I gave 'er this body ta find the brute. I need him ta pass as much as she wants ta be with him," Grendel answered. "Answer enough for ya?"

"Why?"

"Because it's a game," she answered. "It's a contract, between the blue blood and me. Who can beat the other? We don't know. Been at it a long time. I want it done, before he really is too strong. Now, ya helpin' Soi or not?"

"She was the enemy! You tricked not only us, but Soi as well!" Chichiri answered, feeling angrier then he had in a long time. It was a snarling rage bottling up in his chest, akin to the anger at Nakago, who had also played them all as puppets. It did not burn with the same ice that Chichiri's hatred of Nakago did, but it came as close as any other ever had.

"Oh, so ya'd help Mary, but not Soi? Is it because her face is different?" Grendel propped the body up and lifted the chin, exposing the bruised and exhausted face belonging to a woman that didn't exist. More anger swelled in Chichiri at her ridiculous statement.

"There was no Mary!"

"Exactly. Only Soi. So, are ya gonna help her again?"

"She was the enemy…she helped to kill our friends…"

"Ah, but she was flesh and blood too, wasn't she? Gave everything for one man, the same as you gave everything for a woman once, huh? Same conviction, stronger faith."

"No! This is not about me! Don't you dare bring her into this!" Chichiri threatened. Grendel winked, and passed a hand over the inanimate Mary's face. The loose hair of Chcihiri's long dead betrothed fell in thick tresses from her fingers, while the face looked as peaceful as sleep. Chichiri's heart gave a lurch, and he took a step forward. Hot tears threatened his eyes.

"Different woman, same story. Love, always. Bonds run deep, boy. All bonds are the same in essence. She just loved a different way from _you_, loved on another side of a war."

"It was…inexcusable what she did…" Chichiri argued, refusing to see Grendel's point. The woman sighed deeply, and shook her head.

"An' ta her, it was inexcusable that an attempt was made on her brute's life. So she died for him. An' she came back for him, after 'e got lost." The Grendel lifted up the body, which quickly morphed again into the image of Soi, all that hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes closed, pale in death. He had seen that same corpse carried away once before, when Nakago had cradled her, tender in his care for her still form. "They never made a court for love, not in any life," Grendel said, smiling her crooked smile. "Because that's what makes a human. Whether ya liked her love or not, it was as strong in her as it ever was in you."

"Why? Why would I help an enemy?" Chichiri asked, his resolve faltering. He thought of Mary laughing with Tasuki. The phrase 'another time, another place,' came to mind. This _was_ that other time, other place. And Chichiri was not sorry to have encountered Soi under these conditions he realized. He had been happy for her spry steps and the optimistic determination. "What do I have to do?" Chichiri asked. Grendel's smile widened.

"Yer a monk," she replied, turning with the body. Soi's face morphed, and became blank and bald, with bland and indistinguishable features.

"What's the point in soliciting my help if all you'll ever do is leave me on my own?"

"Part of the deal, boy. I can only influence. Unless ya sell yer soul to me, then we'd be much more direct," she cocked her head to one side, her tangled hair trialing down to her hips. Moonlight gleamed off one eye and a fang coyly. Chichiri wondered who was more hideous, Grendel or his old master, Taiitsukun.

"Not just yet," Chichiri replied.

"Then go figure it out." She swirled into the mist, vanishing. Chichiri collected his hat and cloak, adjusting them accordingly, and determined on finding Tasuki. Last he knew, Tasuki had been somewhere near the Curled Horns.

As he walked, he considered his options. Monks, by practice, were close to the spiritual realm. He had exorcised spirits before, but none of them had held a candle to Nakago, Soi, and whatever Marcuccilli and the Grendel were. Exorcisms required a great deal of time and a confined space. He currently had neither of these two tools, and would be forced to expend a great deal of power to quarantine Nakago…if indeed such a thing could be done. Then would come the actual act of exorcising. He would have no power to lend to this, and there would not be much time once the barrier was erected. Tasuki would have to go in and tackle Nakago alone. Chichiri wouldn't even be able to afford him any extra power boosts.

Soi…she wanted to save him. Soi had to have loved Nakago enough to come back from death. If he could find Marcuccilli and free Soi, then Soi could persuade Nakago, perhaps. It was a gamble. Marcuccilli had managed to imprison and deceive Nakago, _and_ to seal off their powers. Only a God had ever managed that before.

"What a mess," Chichiri sighed, wishing 'another time, another place,' wasn't so difficult.


	13. Treachery

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Fine. I'll review myself. "Gee, I thought the last few chapters were great! You're the best writer ever! Whee!" Pshaw...but seriously, even if you're just like, "I think Tasuki should have a shot where his hair blows in the wind," or "Chichiri should have more chibi scenes," or even if you feel like venting at me, please do so. Maybe I can pull some reactions out of you with _this_ chapter! Mwa ha ha ha! Something! Anything! Schmoof!

Chapter 13: Treachery

"Hooooooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Weeeeeeeeeeennnnnnch!" Tasuki cupped his hands, shouting. His voice was starting to get raw, choked by smoke, and tired. He couldn't find the blond barmaid, the one who'd caused the sudden upheaval.

Tasuki was tired, his whole body in a general state of aching pain. He couldn't imagine she would be much better. Grendel had done something to her, had gripped the sides of her face, and had turned her into a beast. Her bones had begun cracking and she'd drawn in on herself, hunching her shoulders. The stampedes of people had kept him from getting to her.

"Where are you? Wench!" Tasuki tried again. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllloooooooooooooo!" he shouted until his lungs burned for oxygen. He fell into a fit of coughs, choking on smoke. Doubled over, he hacked up phlegm and smoke, spitting it onto the ground, before straightening up and shaking his head. He looked around the illuminated darkness, jerking away from a tree trunk as it exploded with a loud crack.

The fires from the Curled Horns were spreading too quickly. The demon beneath the building was already alight, blazing with a foul stench rising. Tasuki wondered how long it had been there, and what it was doing for Marcuccilli. He paused and stared at the encroaching fire, so close it made his clothes hot against his skin and poured sweat down his body. He gazed at the vast expanse of destruction. He could hardly see the broken ruins of the Tavern.

The burning corpse gave a shudder, muscles around the shoulders bunching. Tasuki's eyes grew wide, and he watched as the hulking monster attempted to stand. Or, so he thought, until the shoulders split with a wet tear, and something began extracting itself. One claw at a time, a beast slowly lifted itself from the charring remains, and slid down and along the wrecked side and through the rubble of the Curled Horns, landing in a heap on the ground.

His fire warmed clothing suddenly burned his skin, and he stepped back. The skin on his face felt dry and taught, ready to crack to pieces like a broken mirror, but he lingered, watching. Staggering, the beast began pulling itself towards him. Whatever it was, it resembled something vaguely human, with limbs as thick as tree trunks and thick bodied. It was too matted with gore to distinguish anything else, but as it gained momentum and hiked up to four legs, he saw a snout and a sodden mane. Enormous eyes spotted him, luminous and reflective of the light around them.

Tasuki had to move backwards again with the sudden sharp burn of heat, dancing a few steps further, wishing there was more time and fewer restrictions. At least for the moment the spell he had been under was broken and he retreated father. The humanoid enemy loped after him, kicking up ash and burning twigs, shuddering off flame and passing through it as if it were only mist.

Tasuki picked up speed, now that the creature chased him, vaulting over the uneven pathway leading to the rubble that was the Curled Horns. He ran without looking back, unable to hear the footfalls of his pursuer, but acutely aware of its closing distance behind him. Almost as if they were his own, he felt the bunch of muscles, and the ensuing spring of a great pounce.

"Rekka Shin'en!" he spun backwards, launching flame in a red tongue through the sky. It leaped upwards, towards the belly of the monster. Tasuki didn't stop to watch, pitching forward and rolling to get out of the landing zone. He was spared from four inch razor claws by a hair. Both combatants were up again in a heartbeat, turned and facing each other. The creature's hair stood on end, bristling along its shoulders, bearing glittering fangs and rising a head taller then he on all fours.

"Come on beastie," Tasuki challenged, as they both circled carefully. A rumbling growl like churning earth rolled up from its chest, the soft plips of blood dripping from its bedraggled mane making more noise this its clawed hands and feet. As it moved, Tasuki saw the faint swirls of something displaced. He thought at first it was a trick of the heat, perhaps the creature still smoking. But as he circled and the arched spine of his enemy was silhouetted by the moon, he realized that the creature displaced a mist of some sort, passing through it. In fact, a few beams of moonlight passed through the shoulders and arms, as if the creature were not completely there.

"What are you…?" Tasuki asked, recalling suddenly the Grendel. There were the same golden eyes, feral and consuming. Slowly, a sign of peace, he straightened up, and lowered his weapon. The beast growled, leering towards him, but Tasuki didn't flinch. "Grendel, that's you, isn't it?" She smelled like burnt blood and singed hair, and he remained absolutely still as she came closer, and then circled him. His heartbeat sped up when she passed behind him. "What did you do with the girl?"

A grizzly snarl was his answer. "She said she'd give you her soul. Did you take it? Where is she?" Tasuki repeated. Grendel moved back into the moonlight. She was more transparent now, and mist was slowly growing thicker around her. She lifted her short snout and vicious features, turning towards a distant hill, studying it.

"Bait…" she rumbled, her voice grating like cracking stones. Laced overtop was the high alto of a young woman. It tickled to back of his mind. "He'll need bait…" she turned to him, and he recognized the voice all at once.

"It's you…" he gaped, his eyes widening. That voice belonged to the feisty barmaid, laced like a streambed down a barren hillside. She turned to him, and her eyes were cold. "What did she do to you?" Tasuki stepped forward. He reached out and took her great, shaggy head in both his hands. It was sticky, the fur matted with bits of gore, but he put his forehead down against her bear snout. The burr in her throat quieted, and she slowly sat down.

Tasuki listened to her breathing; feeling her exhaled breath ruffle his jacket, cool as the mist from a waterfall against his skin. She was chill to the touch, as if made from a cloud, and it almost felt like she gave way when his fingers slid beneath the coarse fur. This body was so different from the one he'd raced against.

A piercing pain shot through his chest. He choked on his own breathing, eyes flying open. The fire behind him suddenly became too hot, while the body before him was too cold. His sticky hair slid like spider legs down his forehead as he tilted his head back to look at her. He couldn't speak, and so dropped his eyes. A claw stuck out of his chest, arching deep, directly into his heart. A molten line of searing blood trailed down his chest, burning a line down each rib, until it gathered in the folds of his jacket and belt. His heart was trying to beat, but it only caused more excruciating pain with each tremor, while his lungs floundered to keep working.

His hands struggled to close but they wouldn't. He staggered a shaky step backwards, and whatever had been the barmaid snapped her claw off, leaving it protruding from his chest. His knees gave out, and he thumped against the ground, feeling the shock reverberate up his spine and rattle his teeth. He knit his brow, confused. He was cold.

'…bait…' he realized. She needed a soul to bait Marcuccilli with. What a fool he was. 'Sorry…Miaka…I promised to stop…hating girls…but…they just cause trouble…' He smirked, bitterly amused, and slumped backwards.

The sky was incredible. A vast panorama of blue-black scattered with stars like a broken string of a million pearls. It reminded him of his home in the mountains, where he'd spent his time as a bandit. He hadn't seen a sky like this in ages, not since before he'd joined the other Suzaku Seven. Ah, them…he searched the sky and found the cluster of constellations to the south, the celestial bodies of the Suzaku Seven. Yes…five of them were already on the other side. He at least wouldn't be lonely…but Chichiri…

'Sorry bud…' Tasuki shuddered a last breath. 'Take care…I'll say hey to the others …'

Fog rolled over the sky, encroaching on his vision and awareness, bleaching the world. He watched it come, and felt colder and colder, until he stopped feeling at all. Somehow, this was not what he anticipated death to be…

"Tasuki," a man's voice rang through the fog. "We have some unfinished business, you and I."

Feeling came back in an explosion of sensation. Thick fingers roped around his neck, hauling him to his feet and squeezing. Fire seared a gout of spiritual power devour every vein and cell, flaying him piece by excruciating piece.

And yet somehow, he now stood ten paces away from Nakago. His stomach dropped out, and he looked at the blond general with a mixture of confusion and loathing. The blue-eyed tribesman smiled.

"You've died have you?" he asked, and Tasuki's mind fumbled for understanding.

"What're you doing here? You're supposed to be dead! I watched you die!"

"What a pity I couldn't reciprocate the favor and relish your demise." That heartless smile painted itself over his china-skinned face. He approached, and Tasuki gave ground. He backed away until he felt something between his shoulder blades. A snout.

"You stay until he comes," the barmaid commanded in a guttural snarl.

"Traitor," he growled back at her, feeling the injury of her betrayal acutely.

"Killed by a woman. A fitting end," Nakago stated, sneering. The blue aura of his oceanic amount of spiritual power hissed and crackled around him, beginning to scathe away the old scars on his forearms, and lengthen his dulled hair, polishing it go celestial brilliance.

"Why are you still here?" Tasuki demanded, stumbling forward as the barmaid gave him a shove.

"I've been waiting a long time to tear you to pieces," Nakago answered, delighted. "Let's play."

Tasuki looked behind him, and back at Nakago. Neither enemy would let him flee. "Fine," he said. "I always wanted to be the one to break you. I was sorry when my sword missed." Perhaps he was crazy, but Tasuki thought he saw the slightest twitch in Nakago's left eye. The glow around him intensified from indigo to marine. "Pity to loose a good woman like that," Tasuki grasped that thread. Maybe Nakago would get careless. "I suppose it was all in the plans though, sooner or later."

A sizzling hole peeled back in the veiled mists, and Tasuki had only just managed to get out of the way. The molten energy hissed, while the mist curled back in, obscuring the distorted landscape. The trees shot in jagged directions, leaning and even bending in some cases. The earth looked irregular, perfectly flat or roiling like boiled water. The mist hissed as it crept back into place.

"Didn't you ever wonder what she tasted like?" Nakago asked, and Tasuki paused, half crouched. He cocked his head to one side. "She was the first woman you were ever attracted to, wasn't she? Didn't it bother you how much they hung on each other, make you wonder what it was that drove him wild?"

"_Don't_ talk about them, savage," Tasuki threatened gutturally.

"Didn't it bother you that even _I_ got to kiss her? Wonder how sweet and soft those lips were?" Tasuki recognized his own tactics, but it didn't stop him from being furious. With an effort, he forced himself to smile.

"That's Tamahome's fault for not keeping a tighter leash on his girl," Tasuki answered.

"Oh that's right, you were partial to the she-he, weren't you? I heard his blood was honey sweet," Nakago jeered. "Such perfect skin. I bet it was soft as flower petals. Did you ever touch it? I'm sure I'll find out after I'm through with you."

"Lay one hand on Nuriko…" Tasuki growled, forgetting his own cautions. "And I'll flay you sixteen different ways and feed you to the dogs!"

Red-orange flame and blue white spiritual powers crackled through the space between them, meeting and exploding, filling the air with steam and heat. The smell of hot air and damp earth permeated around them, as their feet moved without sound. Meanwhile, the former barmaid sat and watched on her haunches, waiting for her prey to nibble at the bait, her eyes throwing back the flashes of power.


	14. Being

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **I like this chapter. It's surreal.

Chapter 14: Being

Bai Hua-Wan. That was it. It echoed hollowly through the blinding white, reverberating off of mist. There was a sense of being, a sense of existence, but it was unfamiliar and without form. There was no recollection of anything beyond those three words: Bai Hua-Wan. They reverberated again and again: Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan…

It was stifling. There was no hot or cold, just an absence, without feeling, without life. No light, no darkness, nothing to come into contact with nothing else. Just three words. Bai Hua-Wan. Bai Hua-Wan… Bai Hua-Wan…

Maddening, insipient words. Bai Hua-Wan. They tumbled again and again, gnawing at the flicker of a being, the vaguest awareness of self. Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan! Only those words, no others, none with even which to express gnawing or insipience. Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan, Bai Hua-Wan!

Bai Hua-Wan….

Would it not end? Would there never be an end? Like a tide, there was the strengthening and fading of being, a sense of "here-ness" followed by a pull into the "not here."

Bai Hua-Wan…

They steadied, the words, into a heartbeat of triplets. In the silence between words, being seemed to fade, and come together again at the words.

Bai Hua-Wan…Bai Hua-Wan…Bai Hua…Hua-Wan…Bai…Hua…Bai Wan…Wan Hua…Bai…Bai…

Slowly, something soothed them into thoughtlessness, made them quieter and quieter, incoherent. There was no need for these, no need for the useless repetition of gibberish. No, there was only the need to dissipate into the nothingness, to merge and be at peace with the yawning absence of all things, serene like the abyss. That teeming, turbulent self had no purpose, nothing beyond trouble, nothing but compelled misery. Being was a burden, being brought pain…Bai….Bai…gibberish…

Name?

What gibberish was this? Name? Where did such a thing fit in, what did it mean? Who needed a name, a thing to call the being. It was burdensome, formed lines, familiar boundaries, shackles. Wan…Bai Han…Wai Bua…name? No, names were bad. Confining, disruptive, causing eddies in that tranquil streaming away of being.

Name…color? Colors melted in bright streaks, running in blotchy messes. Color was discord, color brought strife. Reds, purples, whites…dripping chaos and damnation. No, no! Name, color, gibberish, wuibaahan, bahawuian, wa ba hui…let it go and sleep, rest, calm…no more chaos…

No more chaos? There was chaos?

Being was chaos. Being _is_ chaos. B…

Bai…

Being…to be…a verb. Yes, a verb, a noun…a being, an entity, something…to be, to…to feel, to see, to cry, to sleep...to laugh, to cheer, to touch…warmth…Bai…white. Bai is a color, an entity. White, Bai.

Sleep, no. Sleep, chaos is names. It's gibberish, cement, shackles, a stab in the back…

Bai, white, light on steel. Pain, white hot, blinding pain. Searing, burning. Chaos, sleep…white…Bai…white…Bai…

A spine…there must be a spine for a stab in the back. One, two, three, four, vertebrae, stretching in a gentle curve. Bai, white, Bai, white, a name, a color, an entity. Bai, white, color, name, entity, has a spine, a joint collection of vertebrae that could arch and bend. Yes, they bent, slowly, almost moaning as they recalled themselves. Bai, white, name, color, entity…spine…searing pain…

Forget. Being is sufferring, forget. Being is pain, being is white hot, burning memory, memory pouring like molten iron, corroding the will to be, for being is pain.

A will? Will and spine…they had been interchangeable, sometimes…will, spine…bend, break…yes, both could bend and break. Bai, white, name, color, entity, spine, will. Will was iron, created and festooned, made and unmade, just like iron. It curled, elaborate…no, it was not wrought, it was straight…white…light on metal…direct, unyielding, cold…focused one direction.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!!!!!!! Being was pain!

Yes, being _is _pain! Bai! White! Name! Color! Entity! Spine! Will! Will, will, will…will was a sword, a blade, straight, unyielding, driven, deadly. Yes, will was a blade. For a blade, there must have been fingers, fingers to hold, to curl around the handle, to fit in the well-worn grooves. They were long fingers, slowly curling into a fist, and unfurling. Bai…yes, Bai. Bai, white, color, name, entity, spine, will, fingers…promise. There was a promise…a promise binding the will, the spine, the _heart_. Ah yes, the heart.

Bai Hua-Wan, the name, the being. The being had made a promise, the promise had been made to the heart, and the promise had never been fulfilled. The fingers could not release the sword, the sword could never be remade to loosen the will, the will remained coursing through the spine, connecting the vertebrae, taking orders from the heart. The heart that drove a body – arms, legs, hands, feet, fingers, toes, head, mouth, eyes, ears, tongue, lips, nose, breast, back, hips – to keep going, to lift the sword, to channel power, to lure men, to hunt, to never cry, to powder cheeks, to hold the head high, to break the others…the heart that drove a body to do all of these things had not been rewarded with the promise. It could not rest.

Bai Hua-Wan, the name, that was the being. And the heart had made a promise as Soi, the same being, but with the name that gave it a different set of concrete walls and shackles, a different set of rules to govern itself with. And those rules were made of sizzling power and yipping lines of electricity.

NO! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!!!! BEING IS PAIN!!!!!

Yes, being is pain. Soi opened her eyes lash by lash, and saw the absence streaked anew with color, dripping in such an array as to blur and smear into all colors. Solidifying, mist curled in overhead, and the ground formed beneath her. Soi watched her fingers become complete, and felt the earth beneath her solidify, cold and damp.

She felt the creature lodged against the back of her neck, trying to unravel her very core. It pulled furiously, already having laid siege to most of her memories. Her mind was in shambles, only fragments coming through, but she knew enough to want to pry this beast off.

Currents ran through her astral body, sliding through the memory of her body's veins and tissues. She recalled the unbound and wild nature of it, the all consuming demands it made on her body, and released it with a snap. The resulting flash and burn of power was scintillating, resonating deep down to the core of her being, that part of her that was still Bai Hua-Wan, in pursuit of the promise Nakago had made to her years ago.

The beast dislodged from her and staggered backwards, and she rose to her feet, fixing her eyes on Marcuccilli. He was a cowering, wraithlike creature, flickering power and raw spirit, crippled and raging after a nearly fatal blow. But oh there was power! Soi stepped back, feeling it build in him, gathering like the pressure behind a breaking dam. She charged herself as well, until the flickering tendrils of the astral-memory of her hair stood bristling on end, the follicles aching in remembered pain, her teeth tap dancing against each other.

They released like a wound spring, each one launching an eruptive power that fizzed and crackled through the mist. It clashed, and Soi was standing so close she remembered the pain of heat on her skin, and knew that if she were alive it would boil and peel back the flesh. But she was not alive, she reminded herself. Yes, there was a will, spine, heart, and drive, but there was no body to go with it. Her skin slinked back over the hazy imaginings of what burned muscle would look like, until it gleamed in milky perfection. No, he could do nothing to this 'body' of hers. He was trying to leach from her soul…and she did not have the energy to resist him for long.

Already he was climbing back towards her, reaching with the mist into her skull, his molten and misshapen mass of storm cloud body resembling a blotch of ink with jittery appendages. He was trying to pry her apart, render her gathered memories useless, and tear away her name. Bai Hua-Wan. It was her name, the one and only thing she could hold onto in the maelstrom of her life, and he attempted to devour it with sweet whispers about being and pain.

The second bolt of electricity separated them without her thinking about it. She jerked away, moving as fast as she possibly could, cutting through the haze and the mist. Soi ran, her whole self occupied with finding Nakago, with returning to him…except that she could not conjure his image, or recall even the faintest whisper of his voice. She couldn't remember his scent, or the feel of his skin, or even what his spiritual power felt like as it brushed across her soul.

Soi tore herself apart, scattering the astral memories of her body and letting it dissipate, spreading wider and wider over the area, and streaming like a waterfall away from the inky mess of Marcuccilli. He was pursuing, expanding in a similar fashion, trying to slow her. He grappled with a piece of her, and she felt it go, giving up more memories, making herself less substantial. If she wasn't fast, she would be lost completely.

She touched everything she could, hunting for a mind, an entity she recognized. She was searching for Nakago, digging and tearing to find some piece of him she could follow, beyond just the celestial name that he had molded into armor and weaponry.

_There!_

She came together again, extending her hand, and caught hold of him. Her fingers closed in his, and he pulled, yanking her towards him, and throwing up a barrier.

"Nakago!" she called out, but it was not him that she looked upon. No, this was not Nakago…this man…

He looked down at her with one eye, his monk's staff thrust into the ground, a great barrier enveloping them. There was a scar on his face, and his long hair was bound at the base of his skull. Yes, she knew him, but he was _not_ Nakago.

"Do you remember me now, Soi?" he asked. His voice struck a chord. Monk…Mary. Mary had traveled with a monk. This was he. "Chichiri, one of the Suzaku Seven," he supplied. Suzaku painted images of fire and devastation in her mind, of trial, death, victory, and failure.

"You…" she recoiled. "Where is Nakago?"

"I'm not sure. If we find him, will you help me to send him to the spiritual plain, where he belongs?" Chichiri asked, releasing her. He maintained the barrier, as Marcuccilli rapidly began chipping and hacking at it, trying to crack it open. It wouldn't be long now. Chichiri flinched beneath one attack, and it almost caved in.

"Why?"

"You want him to be at peace, don't you?"

"Why would you help me? We're enemies."

"I can't really have him raging around our world, now can I?" Chichiri replied, smiling. Soi thought absently that she liked his smile.

"Why not destroy us both? Send us into oblivion?"

"Yes, we were enemies, but where's the point in that? I was reminded recently that there must be an end somewhere," Chichiri explained. He held out his free hand to her. "Will you help me?"

Soi looked at him. In all her life, she had never asked to be redeemed. Sin after sin, and she never expected someone to reach out with a truce, least of all one of the Suzaku Seven. So, here they stood, being hammered down upon by a monstrous enemy. And what was the difference between them?

Only their celestial rulers. They were both born to live and die for a priestess, both given powers that had ostracized them, both forced to follow the wires of their puppeteers. That was all. She carefully extended her hand, and placed it palm-to-palm against his.

"Thank you," she said, and Chichiri's smile got more crooked. He tapped his staff, and a hole ripped around them. They tumbled through space, pulling away from Marcuccilli, and leaving him unable to follow. Soi became again aware of disembodiment, only knew that her fingers were still curled around Chichiri's.

"Another time, another place," she smiled. The misty world swirled back together around them, and Soi shook out her limbs. She released Chichiri's hand.

"T-Tasuki…" Chichiri garbled, and Soi turned, surprised. Laying face up on the earth pathway, the redheaded celestial warrior looked like he slumbered on the ground. Jutting from his chest was an arched claw, framed in congealing, red-black blood. "Tasuki!"

As Chichiri's hands closed around the pale visage of his fallen comrade, Soi lifted her face, and heard the bellowing shriek of a beast rumble through the mountain. Behind her, she was aware only of the tirade of sizzling power and a man's scream. Ahead, Marcuccilli approached, driven by an equally as deranged power.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her insides seized up. She was about to lose everything all over again.


	15. Form

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

**A/N: **Happy V day! Yay for beheaded saints and war!

Chatper 15: Form

How many times had his blows connected? Nakago lost count. Tasuki still remained, infuriatingly pulling himself back together, taking blow after blow. Oh yes, he was weakening, but it was taking so long. Nakago was impressed with the number of hits Tasuki had landed, but Nakago was still in one piece.

It would seem that spiritual combat did not work the same way as physical. He wondered what it would take to pull Tasuki's spirit to pieces, and if there would be the satisfying ooze of blood and tearing of flesh.

"I'm impressed you've held on so long. You're a tier above pathetic," Nakago goaded as Tasuki picked himself up off the ground. The man shook his head, ribbons of blood sliding down his face. He should not have been bleeding, Nakago thought. They did not have blood. Tasuki swiped blood away from his eyes, and levered up to his feet. The way his knees unbent, he really should have been groaning like rusted hinges.

"Shut up," Tasuki grunted. He was beyond witty banter, focused entirely now on the battle. For his fiery temper, he was not quite as fun to tease as Tamahome. Tasuki moved suddenly, a wide arch of flames belching into the sky. Nakago moved, taking a few steps out of the way, and felt his arm jerk back and dislocate. Tasuki grunted, twisting harder and pulling. Pain screeched through Nakago's shoulders as he tried to dislodge Tasuki, feeling the grind and pop of his strained joint. This damn fog. Nakago took a full second to hate it, while Tasuki yanked harder, trying to pull the limb clean off. Damn fog had hidden his movements and made Nakago careless. If only this fog….

Tasuki's arms suddenly slipped and he stood quite alone, his eyes flashing around him. Nakago was equally as surprised. He moved to test his shoulder as the pain vanished, and found that he had neither shoulder nor fingers.

'_What?'_ he wondered, and his face would have registered shock, but he found he had no face. Panicked, he tested for his legs and feet, for his chest, anything. But there was nothing…had Tasuki won? Had he…had he been unable to destroy Soi's murderer, this man so much weaker, so pathetically insubstantial in comparison to Nakago's own power?

'_Soi…'_

He recalled too forcefully the weight of her head on his shoulder after an exhausting battle in sticky summer. It had been too hot, stifling, but he hadn't bothered to remove her. She was asleep too fast and they were the only two left anyway.

His shoulder? There it was. Fingers, limbs, yes, he was all in tact. He could see himself again. Tasuki watched him with shocked eyes, his face pale. So then, Nakago smiled, memory was the key to all things in the spiritual plain. Yes, that's why Marcuccilli had been so desperate for memories, and so hard to fight against. That was why Nakago had been imprisoned.

Marcuccilli had stripped off Nakago's memories, sealed them away tightly, not powerful enough to devour them. Well, Nakago was certainly powerful enough to destroy Tasuki's memories. He smiled at the redhead, and let himself dissipate again, let himself become the mist.

Tasuki was not about to sit around and wait to be destroyed. Orange fire slashed against the sky like the haphazard brush strokes of a mad painter. They were easy to avoid, especially if Nakago just crept along the ground. Tasuki's firestorm was no problem, and Nakago crept up along his spine, wrapping around the thrashing fighter like a boa constrictor. He found niches, gaps in Tasuki's memory of his physical form, and niggled holds into place, before he forcefully tore the spiritual form apart.

Tasuki shrieked, and tumbled into mist as well, grasping for understanding. Nakago swirled forward, enveloping the turbulent, bubbling essence of his enemy, and tried to find a way into the memories. Oh, it was so easy!

The memories of Tasuki's life flooded around him. He was bowled over by the tide of them, devoured by the intensity of feeling and overwhelming emotions that governed his foe. He saw a matriarchal mother, as fiery haired as her son, brandishing various kitchen instruments and reigning with an iron fist. He saw a host of sisters, five, all older, trussing Tasuki up like a baby doll, herding and shepherding him about. He saw the family brawls, the squabbles, the pranks, the love, tenderness, and dedication. He saw the rebellious Tasuki taking off, leaving home, and swearing to hate women for all eternity. He saw the days as a bandit, the joy of friendships, projections of masculinity, hiding the tender emotions and deep feeling.

Nakago hesitated, curious as he felt as Tasuki did, moved by the potency of his life as the memories meshed and interacted with Nakago's emotions and thoughts. He saw Miaka through Tasuki's eyes, saw the brotherly playfulness Tasuki had with all the Suzaku Seven, and with horrible and cutting despair, felt each of them die.

"What a fool," Nakago purred. He stopped himself as the image of Mary came into his mind. There she was, wearing Soi's expressions, unable to remember herself. But she was undeniably Soi. The way she sauntered in, even wearing a dress, and made herself at home at their table once they'd invited her, had Soi written all over it. But it was a softer Soi, perhaps the woman she might have been if Nakago…if he had not used her so poorly. She laughed, rosy cheeked, engaging in idle banter and boasting, the whole time exuding a feminine security.

And Tasuki had touched her…he'd carried her up the stairs at the Curled Horns, she'd helped him to bed a time or two, she'd removed his boots and tucked him in, she'd _touched him._ Nakago felt betrayed and angry. She was not supposed to look with kindness on anyone but _him_.

"I will destroy you for this," Nakago informed Tasuki, driving the spiritual equivalent of claws into Tasuki's mind. The man was too flustered to figure out that he could have done the same to Nakago. But the tribesmen took one final moment to root through Tasuki's mind, tear past every memory, desperate to know if they'd slept together.

No…no, he had not touched Soi that way. The absurdity of his anger did not strike Nakago as it should. He was raw and almost shaking, overwhelmed by emotion and by the way in which Tasuki lived his life, volatile and turbulent in his open feeling.

Nakago tensed, ready to fully destroy his enemy, when more screams distracted him. They were animalistic screams. An inky, writhing blot soared over their "heads" and Nakago looked up, momentarily distracted. A dark tendril lanced down and fought for his mind, gripping a handful of memories and crushing them.

Marcuccilli.

Nakago dragged himself and his prey out of the way, forgetting to rend Tasuki to pieces as he analyzed the new situation. Marcuccilli was powerful, an enemy not to be trifled with, and he was certainly much more experienced in this method of combat. In his current state, Nakago doubted that his mental barriers would be any mach for Marcuccilli's maddened lust for sustenance.

Marcuccilli's distorted face lifted, roiling in inky darkness, his slit eyes gleaming with fire. He honed in on both misty beings as if they still had forms, and slunk towards them, his spindly appendages dragging the bulk of his writhing form towards them. He drew in on himself, ready to pounce.

Oily tentacles lanced toward Nakago and Tasuki. Nakago couldn't react fast enough as they caught hold of him. Tasuki screamed, crawling and pulling himself back into Nakago, almost trying to fold the other into a shield around him, but it was no use. Marcuccilli had hold of both of them, and dragged them forward mercilessly.

Nakago felt the crushing blow of a memory destroyed, and Tasuki spasm and writhe as a few of his went. This was no good at all.

A chorus of echoing howls sounded on either side of them, sending ripples through the mist. The mist swirled, and slowly began to solidify in a wall, climbing tile by tile up, until it arched over their heads. _Now_ there would be no escape.

"_Food, food…hunger…" _Marcuccilli rattled, dragging himself to them as he pulled them closer. The blotchy darkness filled up Nakago's vision, and he didn't know how to counteract it.

"Nakago!" a woman called out to him. He shifted his attention, giving ground, feeling pieces of himself being gnawed at, as if a billion ants marched beneath his skin. Searching, he heard the dull thump of a fist striking glass. He found Soi…

"Nakago! Don't give in!" Her hands frantically clawed to get to him.

Soi? But…she was dead…he'd buried her. Unless…unless she had come to save him again.

"Soi…" he said her name, felt it fall from his lips.

"Nakago!" Soi screamed, her fingers clawing at the unyielding barrier. Her eyes were spilling with tears, and she flattened her palms suddenly. The hair around her face frayed, before a thunderbolt fizzed against the barrier. Nothing happened, and she tried again. Nakago watched the flashes again and again, pounding like a hurricane, flashing faster and faster. He watched the smoke curl off of her, watched her start to blur, watched her hair crackle around her face…

"Soi," he smiled.

"Please! No!" she pressed her face against the barrier. She was going mad, a wild look in her eyes. "Please! Don't die, Nakago…please."

It was silly. He was already dead. But he understood her words as she peeled away burned palms from the barrier, and began pounding on it again. Don't be destroyed, come back to me.

If Marcuccilli could pull him apart by his memories, then couldn't Nakago do the same? Tasuki was shaking, huge holes in his consciousness, closer to madness then sanity. Nakago gripped his enemy's essence, curling around it and shielding it for a moment. He took hold of Tasuki, forcing him to focus.

"We can tear him apart," Nakago said.

"My mind! My mind! Mother! No! Stop! Stop!" Tasuki shouted. Nakago felt a piece of himself gouged out, and gave the redhead a shake.

"Listen to me. We can rip his mind to pieces, unmake him, as he tries to do to us," Nakago repeated. "But neither of us can do it alone."

"Nakago…you're Nakago! You killed them! You _killed_ them! Why would you help_ me_? How can I trust_ you_?"

"You can't. But I need you to get out." Nakago shuddered and closed in around Tasuki, shying away from Marcuccilli drilling into him. He got a garbled image of a family meal during a festival, before a memory of fireworks caught him in something resembling a hook punch. A panicked garble of thoughts and snapshot moments filled his mind.

With a sudden explosion, Nakago felt Marcuccilli tear down the protection he had erected around his own memories. Tasuki surged into the rubble in his mad jerks for freedom, burying himself in Nakago's mind.

Nakago wanted to rend him to pieces, but with an effort he restrained himself. In all of two seconds, Tasuki had seen his life. All the horrible pieces, the abuse, the murder of his mother at his own hands, the grim life as a soldier, the building hatred, the longing, and the brief moments of illumination, usually associated with Soi. Tamahome had seen all those horrible moments and pitied him. Nakago could not bear pity.

But Tasuki was silent. Finally, after a frozen second of time, Tasuki spoke.

"What are we supposed to do?" he asked. Nakago relaxed, and closed in on the other celestial warrior.

"Invade _his_ mind," Nakago answered, bundling the pair of them into something of a tight ball. He conveyed his idea to Tasuki without words. Their intermingled and jumbled memories were combined enough to transfer thoughts. Tasuki was allowed a brief "ah, I see," before they exploded like a pair of bullets from the muzzle of a gun, aimed at the acid corroding their very beings.


	16. Bargain

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

Chapter 16: Bargain

"You have to let me through!" Soi commanded, turning towards one of the monstrous bear creatures that pulsed energy into the barrier containing the three combatants. "I have to get into Nakago!" From the corner of her eye, she saw the boiling mass that was Marcuccilli. Only a second ago, Nakago and Tasuki had buried themselves in him, mixing like oil and water, trying to assail him. A shudder ran through the earth as a burst of spiritual power went off, as fire exploded from boiling wounds.

"Ya've done yer part," replied the bear she spoke to. The scraggly mane was laced with bits of bone, jagged teeth protruding from the furry upper lip. It looked shaggy and old, eyes gleaming. It was focused intently on the barrier, containing the explosiveness of the battle within. Soi felt anger boil in her, and took two fistfuls of fur, feeling the iron muscles bunched beneath it. She channeled her powers, and felt the crackle of a lightning bolt ring through the bear.

A grating scream of shock layered over a bear's roar, and the barrier flickered. Before Soi could slide through it, a body thudded into her, and she heard teeth penetrate flesh.

"What's the meaning of this, Grendel?" Chichiri asked, his voice grating. Her teeth had landed in his shoulder and chest, but had not crushed him. They held firm. "You needed as much help as possible I thought?"

"Barrier's up, fool," Grendel answered. The bear on the other side, holding the other point, rumbled ominously. Grendel unhinged her jaws and shoved Chichiri off to the side, so her view of Soi was unimpeded. "Come again, girl," she taunted. "Think I won't tear y' apart?"

"I _have_ to get in there!" Soi repeated, taking a few cautious steps towards Chichiri. "They'll be destroyed at this rate!"

"Takin' the barrier down'll let him escape,"

"Leaving it up only has him trapped!" Soi countered. "You'll have to take it down! Why not while he's distracted?" Grendel's laughter grated against the evening, and her eyes flashed in the moonlight. Her bear's face was distinctly human with the grin twisting her muzzle upward.

"The moment he's weak enough, I crush them all," she replied, and Soi's insides seized up. She had walked the world over, endured the elements, ridicule, Marcuccilli…and now this? _This?_

"I can't allow that," Soi replied, hardly able to control her voice. She felt the charge building inside of her, one greater then any she had ever had the power to summon in life. Bits of static snapped around her feet, and the hair on the bear bristled. The creature was on its feet in a second, and Soi let loose, feeling the energy snarling and blinding. Rocks and earth were displaced, dirt burned, and Soi shuddered with the remnants. She was smoking.

Opening her eyes, she saw only the earth around her was devastated, scarred by the tremendous force, enough power gone to leave her trembling. She looked around, confused, and found a tiled barrier encasing her. Touching it, her finger burned and hissed.

"Soi!" Chichiri stopped her before she could open her mouth. Ink colored stains had bloomed on his shoulder and chest, but he looked more or less alright. "Grendel, please. Marcuccilli is badly crippled. Please, allow us to go in and help them," he appealed.

"I've already won. No sense making it complicated," Grendel answered, shrugging her bristled shoulders. She settled down to wait again.

"Then a bargain," Chichiri suggested. "You're a woman of commerce. You gave Soi that body for her memories." Soi was surprised, and tried to find the woman beneath the monster she'd become. Vaguely, Soi remembered the foggy gates where the grizzled wild woman had agreed to lend her a body to find Nakago with. She'd been smoking a pipe, wreathed in a sharp, tobacco smell.

"That bargain you made with Belu!" Soi exclaimed suddenly, recalling the small blond girl's pact for power. Perhaps it would give her the strength she needed as well. But the price…she'd never see Nakago again probably. The thought caused her hands to tremble a bit.

An explosion made Soi look over. The forest fire was getting closer. She suddenly realized the sweat trickling down Chichiri's face was from the heat, rather then his shallow wounds. Orange flame burned dreamlike in the mist, simmering at the edge of the barrier the two bear demons had erected, curling in an embrace around its oval sides. It wouldn't be long before they were consumed by it.

"Your soul for his is it?" Grendel looked at her with a bit of interest. Soi was brought back to the present.

"For both Nakago and Tasuki," Soi replied, looking at Chichiri. Beyond him was the still, pale body of the bandit.

"My memories," the other bear, silent until now, spoke. Belu, the serving girl, watched them now. Her eyes threw back the angry firelight and the lances of power from inside the shield. Marcuccilli's body boiled, almost erupting power like belches of magma. His limbs were focused in on himself, as if trying to catch goldfish in a turbulent stream. Soi looked at her. "If you take Belu's memories, there will only be Grendel. There would be no breach in the barrier."

"But a weakened corner," Grendel answered.

"I'll reinforce it," Chichiri replied, grasping this chip.

"It's a soul I want," Grendel replied, licking her lips with a rough pink tongue.

"Then take it when they come back," whatever was left of Belu answered. Soi shifted, ill at ease. It was apparent she had no power, especially not contained as she was. Grendel rolled the thoughts over, as Soi grew impatient. She could work through these two's machinations once she had saved Nakago.

"I'll let you pass so long as your soul is mine when you return," Grendel answered, and Soi just nodded.

"Don't be rash!" Chichiri cautioned. "That's not what I meant when I said she was a woman of commerce!"

"There are things a woman has to do," Soi replied, smiling gravely. "My soul for Nakago and Tasuki," she confirmed. The barrier around Soi trembled, before swirling and becoming dark. It dripped onto her head, falling like dark rain, staining Soi black, until she was coated thoroughly. Hissing, it dissipated into her soul, billowing through her like dark clouds.

"The pact is made," Grendel smiled. Soi wanted to hug her arms and tremble, but there was no time. Every second left Nakago weaker. She headed directly for Belu, when Chichiri caught her arm. He spun her around to face him, and took both of her hands.

"Good luck," he said, a folded page pressing into her palm. Soi smiled at him.

"Too bad. We needed someone like you on our side," she answered, and they came before Belu. Her enormous golden eye surveyed them up and down, and Soi tightened her hand around the folded page. Chichiri placed his staff in the warming earth, lifted two fingers, and took over half the burden of the field. As his power shimmied and slowly settled into the dome, Belu lifted her beast's hand and placed it around Soi.

There was a great deal of coldness, and then Soi felt herself unraveling. She lifted one hand, and saw it curling away like the smoke from the gleaming ember of an incense stick. She dissipated into mist, curling up along Belu's bristled arm, and phasing into the body. As if with a sudden gust, Soi was swept into the animal frame, and pushed into the barrier.

Apart from the viscous feel of Grendel's pact clinging to her, there was another weight. This one hung on to Soi, propelling both of them towards Marcuccilli. The bubbling mass formed a head, turning clouded eyes towards them.

"_No time to be late!" _chimed the girlish voice.

They met the outer shell encasing Marcuccilli, before they broke through with a wet snap. The turbulence inside tossed them about, and they clung together. Soi tightened herself around Belu, feeling them jostle and bounce, bits of herself catching on the descent.

Suddenly, the darkness peeled back like the scattering of crows, and they fell through an endless sky. An ocean of air, textured by billowing clouds, expanded forever.

"Where are we?" Soi cried over the roar of wind. She suddenly felt very alive again.

"You can find him here!" Belu called back. Soi was suddenly aware of holding a hand, and turned to look down her reformed arm. Belu's blond hair swept madly around her face, still dressed in her barmaid garb, smiling. Her cheeks were rosy, eyes shining. "He's in this memory!" The girl untangled her fingers from Soi's, and began to fall in a different direction.

"Where are you going?" Soi struggled after her, writhing like a fish on a hook.

"I have to find the other one!" Belu answered. "I owe him!" Her arms spread wide, and she looked as if she were doing a swan dive. She turned her shoulders, and rolled through the air. A seam split in the sky, bleeding turbulent darkness in thick dollops, and she shot through like an arrow.

Soi turned her attention instead to the ground, looming before her, becoming a threat. She spread her arms and legs, slowing herself as much as she could. There had to be a way to stop. Blue water loomed before her, winding through a high canyon. If she was…yes, she was positioned to fall over the water. It was the surface tension that would do her in, crumple her bones. She only needed to break it and the water would yield to her body and allow her to pass. Focusing her energies on a few boulders, she channeled lightning and let it strike, sent the flickering tongue of white hot energy to dislodging that point.

The rock popped and ground, breaking and tumbling ahead of her. Soi only hoped she'd timed it right. She tumbled towards the boulder, as it fell faster then she. It crashed into the water, sending rockets of foam and twisting ribbons heavenward. Some of it spattered her cheeks, and Soi pulled her arms before her.

Yes! She passed through the water like an arrow, hoping it was a deep river, angling away from the sinking boulder. Her shoulder grazed the great stone, breaking the skin. She arched her back, kicking her feet against the momentum, countering her descent. Surfacing, she expelled her breath, only to find that her lungs did not burn. She looked at her shoulder, and saw faint wisps of energy. In a second, her arm was good as new.

"Ah…I'm already dead," she sighed, feeling foolish. She unwove her body into mist, and snaked over the surface of the water, climbing up the canyon face she'd just tumbled through. As she came to pass it, she saw the boulder had returned to its precarious perch, and paused.

What had Belu said? This was a memory, the memory where she could find him. Soi assumed "he" was Nakago. If this was a memory, then she couldn't displace things, by rights. Things would remain the way Marcuccilli remembered them. She continued upwards, climbing the steep cliff, until she put herself together again at the top of the ridge.

Expanding beyond was a vast wood, rising in thick pine and evergreen trees, bristling as far as the eye could see. The earth was flat, meeting only a blue horizon, as the wide canyon carved its way and bent out of her vision. The breathtaking sweep of it tumbled endlessly, however, down to the blue ribbon she'd just climbed out of. Bands of rocks colored the walls, striped in brown, orange, and even faintly purple and white patches.

Soi turned, wondering where she was. Behind her, she saw a pillar of smoke, rising like a black column from a city of stone. She didn't recognize the architecture. A blue-white burst of power mushroomed from the ruins, flickering and burning her eyes. She closed them, seeing spots, and knew by the feel of it that it was Nakago.

Abandoning her human form, she swept through the air, carried by the wind. She hoped that he was alright, that he was still more or less himself.


	17. Women

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

Chapter 17: Women

- Tasuki -

Tasuki threw as much flame as he possibly could onto the scene. He forced himself not to care about the soldiers in the memory, just made it burn. He burned, and burned, and burned, until the memory was nothing but ash, peeling away from a new thought. Then, he started again.

He was injured, he knew. He could feel hunks of himself being torn away, but it didn't matter. He would burn and tear until there was nothing left. He didn't even really have a form anymore, was just an ethereal mass of fire. He reached into the turbulence of his enemy and shredded a memory, feeling it drip through his "fingers" in molten globs as he spewed more flame to turn it to ash.

His father…what did his father look like? Tasuki couldn't remember. He remembered the incident where one of his sisters had painted pictures on his face, but he couldn't remember her name, or what his father looked like. It was a blank face, empty as an unpainted Noh mask.

"Burn!" Tasuki screamed. "Burn, burn, burn!" Fire lashed out from him, and he devoured memories, wrenching away the pieces of self that held Marcuccilli together.

"" Miaka!he cried out suddenly, forgetting what she'd looked like the day of the ceremony to summon Suzaku. He forgot the way she pouted at Tamahome, or how cute her smile was when she laughed at Tasuki picking fights with…who did he pick fights with?

Another wave of flame belched forth, charring everything to cinders. He screamed again, enraged, clawing for the memory of Nuriko's long hair, the biting cold of Hokkan, for Chiriko's last smile. He was coming apart.

"Calm down!" came a woman's voice. Who was it? Tasuki launched a vicious campaign against a piece of Marcuccilli, and turned his attention to the voice as Marcuccilli was distracted. The memory of a fluttering heartbeat against his own disarmed him temporarily. "Here!"

The equivalent of a hand reached towards him, and he let a breach drop in his fiery shield. He felt her slide in, wriggle through the glowing fissure, and snuggle in against him. He remembered a race, the smell of alcohol, and little feet against hard wood. He recalled a chandelier, her back arched like a bow in pain, and the weight of her head in his hands as a beast. More notably, he recalled the pain of her claw jutting through his chest.

"_You_," he recoiled, but found no room to back away with. "Why are _you_ here!"

"I came for you," she replied. Tasuki was angry, but distracted as Marcuccilli put the pressure on again. Frustrated, Tasuki set about burning his enemy to pieces, ravaging anything that came near him with fire. He felt her settle in around him and expand, brushing up just below his fiery shield. Marcuccilli's blows stopped connecting, and she closed them in tighter.

"Get away from me!" Tasuki stopped attacking Marcuccilli and thrashed about. He felt the fingers of her consciousness settling comfortably about him like a loose cloak. "No! Don't touch me!"

"Don't worry," she coaxed. Tasuki shivered, repulsed that she should hold him so tightly. "You attack. I'll keep _him_ out."

"No! Don't touch me!" He turned his fire in on her, gnawing at her defenses. He felt her tense up, but she failed to respond.

"Fair that you're angry," she answered. "Please, trust me. _Trust_ me,"

"You killed me! I'm dead, I'm a mess, because of _you_," he snarled. He gripped a handful of memories and melted them, burned away a hunk of her. She cried out, but did nothing to stop him. Tasuki felt her despair, and watched as the blurred image of an older woman in an apron dripped into a puddle, before cooling in ash. And she did not move, held tight to him, shielding him from Marcuccilli's advances.

They drifted silently a moment, the chaos around them fading as Tasuki realized that he had destroyed a piece of her. Whoever that was, as he poked and shuffled through her memories, he realized that was the last one she had. That woman was erased, gone forever from the barmaid's – from Belu's – memories and heart.

Upon closer inspection, he realized her mind had been thoroughly plundered already. Her past life was almost gone, only fragments remaining. The recollections of two younger girls on a mule, summer vineyards, and a loaf of bread were all that remained of her previous life. He found a few straggling memories, bits and pieces of her emotions connected to snapshot images, but it was almost all gone, hanging like shredded sails.

"Marcuccilli…he did this to you…" Tasuki said. Belu confirmed this with a thought. "Just…just keep that barrier up." He folded himself around her as she closed the space tighter around them, and he dissolved his fiery barrier entirely. His whole attention went to burning Marcuccilli into ash.

He felt no pain as he burned everything away, but he knew that the assault was getting more desperate. Marcuccilli was pummeling them with everything he could spare. Somewhere beyond him, Nakago was doing the same thing…assuming Nakago hadn't been devoured. No, there was no way.

Belu's shield flickered, but was reinforced by a sudden burst of strength. A piece of her broke loose, a creeping emotion, pervasive. Tasuki spewed forth fire, and dared to trace the emotion, connected to a deep memory.

_They never came…not a one…_

'Who never came?'

_Nobody…none of them. There was nobody to come and find me, to come look after me when I got lost._

'Why not?'

_I was late…that day, I was late. I couldn't get to her…couldn't protect her. It was too late, and I could have saved her. When you're late…there are no second chances, you know?_

'I know…'

_Why did you look for me? You didn't know me, not then, not now._

'Does it matter?'

_It made me happy. You're the only one who ever looked for me._

'You still killed me.'

_Trust me._

Tasuki left it at that. The conversation could go nowhere else, and Belu seemed content to leave it ambiguous. He had an offensive front to manage anyway.

"Come on," Tasuki growled. "I've been waiting a long time to tear you apart!"

He battled for some amount of time, expending power, burning and burning until he felt he had run dry of power. And then Belu snuggled in a bit deeper, and he felt a swell of power, like a douse of cold water. Grasping the offered energy, he wrapped it around his will and converted it into fire.

"This way!" Belu suddenly urged, pulling him in another direction. Tasuki felt the overwhelming power that was Nakago's, an unbridled explosion bolting directly upward and outward. "We have to hurry! She'll close the barrier around us before long!"

"What?" Tasuki demanded, and had the information dumped into him. It was the uncanny sensation, something like the shock of having a brick slammed into his face. There was no lingering pain, just a sense of urgency. He struggled to claw his way towards Nakago's energy, needing to pool power with the general. His joint strength with Belu couldn't hold out much longer, and with any luck, one final push would have Marcuccilli utterly undone.

"Hang on, Belu. We'll get there," Tasuki promised.

- Nakago -

Nakago tore everything he could reach apart. All of it fell away like wet paper before him, as Marcuccilli scratched against his shield. Twice, the demon had gotten the upper hand over him and managed to tear through the shield, gouging huge, throbbing wounds in his consciousness. But Nakago had not lost just yet. He wouldn't lose, not as far as he was concerned. Nothing would stop him.

Whole worlds seemed to fall away as he dismembered them. He climbed into memories, and blew them apart from the inside out. He turned to meet another onslaught, and let Marcuccilli swallow him in darkness, before exploding outward. Marcuccilli howled, raging at his inability to quarantine this infection.

"What goes around, comes around," Nakago sneered, aware that he spoke from experience.

He dove head first into another memory, watching another scene assemble itself around him. This one had a giggling woman in it, and Nakago realized it was the first woman Marcuccilli had ever been with. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, puzzled by the strange sensation Marcuccilli experienced. It was as if he had never touched another being before.

It bubbled away like so much steam, gone, forever. Scene after scene flew before his eyes as he furiously weeded them out.

Suddenly he was standing at the sight of Marcuccilli's first campaign, toppling a stone fortress near a canyon. Nakago stood in a square, listening to the speech recited by Marcuccilli, something about victory. Rather then wait to hear it out, he pulsed energy, sending it lancing through the square. The place exploded, toppling towers and decimating homes. Nakago built another volley, aware of how much Marcuccilli clung to this memory.

"Nakago!"

He heard his name and froze. He wanted to expand, but he felt Marcuccilli hammering away at him. So, Nakago waited. He waited to hear his name again.

"Nakago!"

Marcuccilli honed in on the voice, and dove for it. Black talons lanced from the sky, headed directly for the shimmering essence of the only person in the world Nakago wanted to see. Nakago moved just as fast, shooting towards her, reaching out. Marcuccilli's talons struck, and Soi screamed.

Half of her was torn to pieces as Nakago pulled her into his barrier. The darkness convulsed around the portion of her that it had managed to swindle, momentarily preoccupied with it. Nakago materialized, taking the moment of down time to formulate arms, a chest, legs, the whole nine yards. More then anything, he wanted to hold her, wanted to feel her in his arms. Soi swirled more slowly together in his embrace, weakened. But she fit just right, and as he curled himself around her slowly, diving down into her mind and thoughts, he knew she was his Soi, the one and only.

"Soi." Saying her name again was almost mesmerizing.

"Nakago…" she sighed, sagging against his chest. Marcuccilli had finished with those pieces of her, and resumed his bombardment of Nakago's defenses. The hammering grew incessant, and Nakago reacted viciously, fueled by his anger. Marcuccilli had injured his Soi.

The memory of the campaign shattered. He propelled them into the next, one that seemed to burn with a faint heat, pulsing with some deeper meaning.

"So, beast. Ya want out?" a woman asked, her voice rough. The bombardment had stopped, although the blows seemed to ring in Nakago's head. He tightened his arms around Soi, fisting his fingers around the cloth beneath her armor. She leaned against him quietly, watching their surroundings.

A Hellish landscape rose and fell around him, jutting like broken bones in tortured formations. Dirt and ash scattered around them, a molten lake burping fire glowering beside them. Swathed in fire-warmed chains was a nightmarishly disfigured creature, a blotch of black ink, resembling something of a triangle-headed toad. Horns and razor edged scales occasionally leaped out, licking the air like black flame. It watched with burning eyes a creature shaped something like a bear and a man, bone fragments tangled in its mane, with jagged teeth and golden eyes.

"Grendel…" Soi whispered. Red hot chains hung broken around the bear-beast's throat and limbs, dragging on the ground behind it.

"Out is it? It'll cost ya," the bear replied.

"Name your price," the frog stated, gazing steadily at her.

"Ye're mine," she smiled. "Mine forever. Unless," she stalled the frog's retort. "Unless y' c'n beat me."

"How?" he prompted her to continue.

"Two thousand years. If you c'n take more souls then me, you'll be free."

"If not?"

"I'll devour _you_."

"You're word?"

"Blood," she corrected, drawing her razor claws down her palm. She buried the wounded fist in his chest, as he groaned painfully.

"No friend to us," Nakago stated, watching her tear the burning chains apart. He built up power, ready to blow the memory to pieces the way the bear tore the frog loose. The memory bubbled, and suddenly leaped to life, trying to catch them up. Molten chains wrapped around the circular barrier Nakago had erected, trying to melt through it. He felt Soi charge up against his chest. They released in unison, blowing the memory to smithereens.

A bone shattering scream rocked Marcuccilli, and Nakago thought he could see the sky for an instant. He smiled, tired as he was, and shifted Soi closer. They might be able to get out after all.

"Nakago!" another voice called. He was not used to such popularity, and turned his head to look.

"Quiet time's over," he said to Soi, watching Tasuki speed towards them. Belu was with him.

"I don't mind," Soi answered, her voice barely audible. She was almost gone.

"Hold on, Soi. We're almost free," Nakago promised.


	18. Final Attack

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

Chapter 18: Final Attack

Chichiri was aware of several things, and all of them were either gambles or just plain unpleasant. He was aware that Grendel was ready to blow the whole thing off and collapse the barrier, decimating the souls trapped within, and he was aware that Belu beside him was only barely conscious, as her soul struggled inside of Marcuccilli. It was a gamble if any of them would make it back out, and a gamble that his sutra would protect Soi against Grendel's claim to her soul.

But Chichiri had not studied under Taiitskun for nothing, nor was he one of the Suzaku Seven just because he was pretty. He was expending a vast amount of power to support an incredible barrier, the most magnificent he had ever seen. This was not the only thing he was doing, however.

Grendel had all her attention on balancing the barrier she had created, keeping it from surging inward and devouring the souls beneath its auspices. Whatever was left of her thoughts was given entirely to monitoring the progress of Belu and the others. While her attention was not on him, she was certainly well versed in defending herself. Rather then just leaving him to his own devices, she had put a restrictive binding on him. He was frozen in place, and she'd "tethered" his spiritual powers open, giving him enough room to adjust if he needed to, but forcing him to keep pouring power into the barrier.

That was fine, except for the rapidly encroaching blaze threatening to consume him and Tasuki's corpse just a little beyond. Sweat was pouring down his sides, and he was preparing to throw up extra barriers around himself and Tasuki's remains, hoping he had enough reserves. In the mean time, however, he focused on carefully tweaking the volatile barrier, whispering to the power and interweaving his own strength. Slowly, it was tempered more to him, tailored more to his side as an ally.

He could only do this on his side of the barrier, lest he give himself away to Grendel. So he mixed and wove and integrated himself into the structure she had created, and found himself at the helm of a ticking time bomb. With a bit of finagling, he managed to position himself so that the instant Grendel began collapsing the barrier, Chichiri could move his half to brace and prevent their destruction.

The sutra he'd given Soi was another part of his plan. It had allowed a tiny piece of him to follow after her, and he monitored their progress as carefully as he could without losing focus on the barrier. When Grendel chose to collapse it, Chichiri's control over his portion would only give him perhaps five seconds of reaction time. With that Sutra, he hoped he would have the energy and speed to extract Soi and whoever she was with to escape. Lucky for him, Tasuki had met Nakago and Soi, so he could pull them out all at once.

"He hasn't won yet," Chichiri chided, feeling Grendel's trigger finger itching to collapse the structure. While owning Soi's soul was a high price, Grendel was obviously not interested enough to jeopardize conquest over Marcuccilli.

"Mind yerself, human," Grendel warned. She eased off a little anyway.

"Wouldn't mind lending a bit of your power?" Belu rumbled softly beside Chichiri. He looked up at her, startled. Her eyes were vacant and far away, and her lips had hardly moved. He unbent the fingers of one hand, and carefully placed it on her arm, beginning to feed her power. "You'd better finish up your prayers. This could kill us all," Belu warned, something of amusement in her voice.

'_Soi, are you there?' _Chichiri asked, focusing on that little sutra he'd given her.

'_I'm here,'_ she replied, sounding exhausted. Her voice was so faint, he had to struggle to tell himself it was really her response, not a trick of the imagination.

'_The sutra I gave you, the minute you release your attack, make sure you activate it as well. It will give me access to you and the power to pull you out.'_

Chichiri felt a form of confirmation, an odd knowledge that she understood without her saying so. He glanced at Grendel, and saw her tensing, preparing for the onslaught building inside of the barrier. Chichiri could feel it, the gathering and swelling of power, rising like pressure in a geyser.

Marcuccilli stilled, and his twisting nightmare of a body became as immobile as obsidian. His head formed into place, and a wicked smile twisted his features in half, slitting his eyes.

"At least it was not to you," he burbled at Grendel. The words seemed to pop like bubbles in oil. Before Grendel could reply, his body was wracked with spasms as electricity danced in crooked spines from his flesh, and he arched his head back, shrieking.

Chichiri grasped the sutra, feeling Soi release its powers. The monk expanded his own strength, pushing power into their attack and reeling in the four spirits trapped within Marcuccilli. They coiled around him, so weak as to barely be called wisps, and he focused only on pulling them out of the maelstrom raging inside the inky demon.

Bulges distorted Marcuccilli further, expanding and pulling him in different directions. He opened his mouth to scream again, and it was Nakago's power that leaped free. That one breach in the flesh was the breaking point. The demon erupted, and Chichiri felt the burn of power jar through him.

Grendel collapsed the barrier, crumpling it like a wet paper lantern. Chichiri jerked into action, slowing the reaction for only seconds. He pulled with all his might, struggled to free those in danger of obliteration, to transport them anywhere but the barrier. The unbridled powers of the celestial warriors and whatever demonic element Belu had added shredded through Chichiri's system, pummeling him with nausea as blood coursed from his nose.

Chichiri's knees buckled as Grendel hammered at his barrier. He felt the blows as if they connected against his body, ringing in his ears and pounding in his brain. The strain surged through him, overworking his physical capabilities of containing the two raging torrents he was caught between.

And then they were through. The others broke free of Marcuccilli and slithered through his teleportation spell, managing to scuttle free just as Chichiri gave out against Grendel and collapsed.

Through the bleary vision of his remaining eye, Chichiri could see the compression of all that celestial power and the raging demon of Marcuccilli. It constricted, grinding and crushing. Grendel stood with her muscles wound tight, shaking beneath the effort. Blood dripped from between her bared teeth, pouring from her nostrils and even dribbling from her eyes. Great gouges in the earth formed beneath her claws, and her fur crackled with energy.

The forest fire suddenly leaped to the forefront of Chichiri's attention. It raged, pouring towards him like a river, consuming the dry earth formerly bound within the shield. The monk struggled to his feet, but found he could hardly move. Plunging his staff into the ground, Chichiri managed with a great heave to pull himself up, and struggled towards the body of his friend. Belu's frame remained immobile for a moment, until the briefest touch of fire licked at her hand.

She snapped to life, took one look at the imploding barrier, and smiled. "Get the body away from the fires," Belu instructed, before bounding towards her master. Chichiri wanted to stay and watch, but found he had not time to waste. He hobbled and dragged himself towards Tasuki's still form. Dropping onto his knees, his vision failed for a moment. He forced it to clear up, reaching blindly forward. His palm connected with the chilled skin on Tasuki's cheek.

"I have no idea what'll happen," Chichiri panted the confession. He closed his blind eyes and focused, drawing on the last ounces of his strength. With a final heave and shudder, he cast his teleportation spell and sent them careening away from the fire. The last thing Chichiri remembered was connecting with the cold ground, and slumping forward against Tasuki's silent chest.


	19. Suzaku

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

Chapter 19: Suzaku

"_Tasuki," _Belu addressed him privately, as she expanded her barrier to join with Nakago's, encompassing the two warriors of Seiryuu. She sounded tired, and there were little fluttering trembled working like butterfly wings in her. Tasuki tightened around her, protective over the vulnerability. She seemed much more insubstantial to him. _"When your friend pulls us out of here, I have a favor to ask,"_

"_What is it?" _he asked. She let the thoughts seep into him, unable to word them accordingly. The first thing he understood was terror. An absolute, all consuming fear, one desperate to cling to anything was running circles through her. It alarmed Tasuki, and Belu quickly stamped it back down. Resolve broke through the terror, followed by the actual favor.

Tasuki was grim and silent, no surer that it would work then she was. It ruffled his feathers that he could see no alternative to her request, nothing that could do a better job for her. She was frightened of the void she was throwing her fate to, hoping desperately that it would work. Even more frightening for her was the idea of remaining, of becoming a beast to serve under Grendel.

So Tasuki reached out and touched Soi. Nakago simmered angrily, on the brink of abandoning the war against Marcuccilli for vengeance of Tasuki.

"It's fine," Soi assured him. Tasuki silently let Belu coil around Soi, and convey her plan anew. There was a filmy residue of contract lingering on Soi when Tasuki released her, and focused instead on Nakago.

"Are you ready?" Nakago demanded. The crack of Marcuccilli's blows made Nakago wince. Tasuki contemplated the unpleasantness of mingling with Nakago's soul again, but knew this was their only shot.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Tasuki reluctantly connected with Nakago.

"Ladies," Nakago connected with them. Tasuki felt Belu slide up against him again and timidly touched Soi. There was no place for awkwardness now, but he felt strange working with her after causing her death. He had not regretted it then, but now it was different. Now that he knew she was a person…

"I'll worry about keeping him out," Belu said. Tasuki felt her reaching back through her body, and in a moment, there was the refreshing tide of Chichiri's power. Belu took over their protection, and Nakago focused everything on one final explosion. Tasuki channeled energy into him, giving everything. He felt Soi's powers funnel in, and everything Belu could give over. Belu stopped up just a little of Tasuki's energy, similar to cupping her hands around flame. Tasuki left it to her, knowing that small amount would make no difference.

The power swelled, heating the space around them, simmering against their skin. It threatened to boil over and consume them, to backfire, as they cast old boundaries and caution to the wind. Tasuki got pieces of the others muddled in his mind; the sweet tang of an orange of Belu's tongue, cold mountain air filling Nakago's lungs in early dawn, mixing colors of makeup with the careful precision of Soi's eye, flashes of strangers, the brush of fingers on his shoulder, birds, whistled tunes, meals, laundry, mopping floors, falling into a cold stream, the pain of wounds, a tooth ache, bruises, congealing scrapes, fights, and harsh words. It was poignant and beautiful, a collage of lives that were unique and separated only by their alliances.

Belu opened the shield like shattered glass, just as the group released their power. Energy ripped outwards from them in all directions, tearing through Marcuccilli. The strange world around them ignited, searing lines of heat jittering erratically in the darkness, lancing in made secants like enraged tongues of lightning.

Soi tightened her grip on the group, and pulled. Tasuki felt Chichiri pulling as well, and grasped his friend, clinging to their only chance of salvation. He heard Chichiri cry out, struggling against the madness around them. Belu wrapped herself around Soi and began drilling, massing all the strange film that Grendel had draped over Soi's soul, and taking it into her almost destroyed self. Nakago panicked, and tried to pry the girl loose from Soi. Tasuki stopped him, conveying the essence of her plan.

They were free. Tasuki held onto Belu as they tumbled together into her body. He felt her expand to fit the contours of this shell, struggling to integrate once more with a body she loathed. Tasuki piggybacked, amazed by the sudden blare of firelight and flashes from a pulsing orb. Belu turned her head, and spoke to Chichiri. Distracted, Tasuki focused on the feel of air through her animal lungs and the sharpness of her teeth as her tongue formed the words. He felt the bunch of her muscles, and then the fire against her belly as they sprang towards a bloody Grendel.

Belu unhinged her jaw and bit down into Grendel's shoulder. The startled beast almost lost hold of the barrier, but held fast. She managed to clamp a fist around Belu's throat, and Tasuki felt the bones in her neck popping.

"_Go quick!" _Belu commanded. Tasuki dove down into the demonic barrier and blood magic that had recreated Belu. He pawed through the teeming energy, which was quickly growing chaotic. The bindings that preserved Belu's new state of being were going mad, as Grendel worked to antagonize them and make them rebel against the soul they housed. Tasuki scrabbled past them, clawing deeper and deeper, looking for the piece that would unravel the whole curse and body.

Distantly, Tasuki was aware of a struggle between the two, Belu only matched because of the immense strain the Grendel faced containing the destructive power raging inside the collapsing barrier. Finally, as a razor blade of magic caught one of Tasuki's sides, he reached the core of the binding, and sunk his "fingers" into it.

"_Suzaku," _Tasuki heaved, drawing on the fumes of his strength. _"Beast God Suzaku, please. I just need a little more strength. Please give me just enough."_

At the first touch of the core, the magic around him surged forward like an army, every sword point honed in on him. He had no strength left for defense, and Belu could not reach him at this depth. Tasuki smiled, counting the seconds, knowing he was done for. It had been a long shot anyway.

Celestial power exploded around him, pouring through him like a pitcher of hot water. It channeled into the binding core, and with an expelled sigh, Tasuki ignited it like kerosene. It incinerated the surging magic, and he felt himself enveloped in a blanket, caught in the recesses of another consciousness. He expanded and opened wide, feeling as if he had wings. And with a single down stroke, the turbulence blew away like so much ash.

He ran up through Belu, climbing along her mouth and teeth, before plunging through the bite wounds into Grendel. He felt this body pushed to its limits, lines of power breaking and tearing muscles and tendons. It unnerved him too suddenly realize that magic held Grendel together as well. But Suzaku's power was not merciful. It ignored his curiosity and incinerated everything, devouring the beast with a vengeance.

"_Suzaku! Wait!" _Tasuki begged, watching Grendel's memories torn asunder. She was the enemy, Suzaku reasoned. There was no place for her existence here, just as there was no place for Marcuccilli. But Tasuki despaired at the pitiless and painful destruction of her, and tried to dig his heels in and curb the sadistic methods of the Phoenix.

Suzaku turned snarling on him, angered at the upstarts of his chosen Celestial Warrior. Tasuki felt the fire threaten to consume him, looming inwards, burning hotter then anything Tasuki had ever felt before. His bare essence seemed to shimmer, while he saw memories and did not remember bits of them, as if they warped into a mirage. Tasuki recoiled, drawing in on himself, trying to get away from the heat.

Satisfied that his servant was cowed, Suzaku continued, and Tasuki watched, powerless. He heard and felt Grendel cry out, felt the boiling blood charring her throat as she vomited, and the bursting of her organs. She was writhing in the dirt, her claws gouging great tears in her body as she fought to end the pain. Her howls were a garbled mess of noise, as she hacked and choked.

"_I'm sorry…"_ Tasuki apologized, moved by her agony and terrified at his God's brutality. _"I'm sorry, Grendel…"_

"Ye're an idiot," a woman said. Tasuki suddenly felt his body curled tightly into a ball, his own arms over his eyes. Sunlight streamed down on his hair and dark coat, warming him pleasantly, as tall grass bent and matted beneath his bare cheek. He could smell sun-warmed earth and crushed plants. Opening an eye, he saw the tips of grass and a blue sky.

A dark haired woman leaned over him with dancing golden eyes and a crooked smile. He squinted up at her, following the light band of freckles beneath her eyes and mapping out the ornaments carefully knotted into her dreadlocks. The face was horribly familiar.

"Mary?" Tasuki demanded, and she squatted. She was not in a dress, but stood in worn traveling garb, all of earth colors. The brown hide of her vest overlaid a linen shirt, while stained deerskin breeches hugged her legs loosely. She propped a head on one hand, and contemplated him.

"Kendall," the Grendel wearing Mary's face corrected. "My real name is Kendall."

"But that's who Mary – er, Soi – was looking for!" Tasuki shook his head. Kendall smiled, her eyes crinkling around the edges. Tasuki tried to overlay the image of Grendel, and saw that if he broke the nose a few times and scrambled the teeth, it would be a perfect match. Even squatting, he could tell that Kendall was very tall. "How…what?"

"Had ta give up my real body fer power," Grendel answered. "But it left the body vulnerable. So, givin' it out ta lost souls brought in prey an' kept it outta trouble." She reached down and pinched his nose.

"Hey!" Tasuki shouted, jerking upright. The pain felt real. He rubbed it and scowled at her. "What kind of power did you get?" he asked.

"Immortality. What else d'ya sell yer soul for?" she mused. He smiled at her, amused in spite of their predicament. The sky and horizon began to catch fire, wavering. Grendel looked away at it.

"Why memories?" Tasuki asked, drawing her attention back to him.

"That's all a soul is," she explained. "But ya lose memories, so ya take others' ta keep goin'."

"I'm sorry…I wish there was an easier way," Tasuki said, looking at the ground. Grendel shrugged, and stood up. The fires were rapidly encroaching.

"Repentance and purging…nobody says it ain't without pain." She seemed to be stretching her legs, and gauging the distance between herself and the fire. Her fingers uncurled and she held back a hand, looking at him. Tasuki placed his palm against hers without a second thought. "A few last things," she informed him. Heat surged through his skin, and she graced him with a last radiant smile. It spread across her face like sunlight, painting her into a human, and making Tasuki wish he knew more.

Then he was falling, tumbling backward, watching as her world peeled back and flames consumed her. The last thing he saw was her shutting her eyes and tumbling backwards into the flames.

"_Kendall…" _Tasuki uttered her real name. Something hot slipped down his face, and upon closer inspection, he realized it was tears. As foolish as he felt, he could not help himself.


	20. Only A Future

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Fushigi Yugi characters, places, etc.

Chapter 20: Only A Future

"Mm…Nakago?" Soi shifted, trying to find him. He wasn't anywhere near, and for a moment, she panicked.

"He's not here," came Belu's soprano. The world seemed to swirl in around her, the fire lit sky appearing, as the trunks of trees dribbled into place like wet paint. Soi searched her sky-turned vantage point, and only found the girl because of the nauseating smell of burning flesh. Rolling onto her hands and knees, Soi saw the great bear-beast lighting up in flames, crumbling forward over the more powerful and larger Grendel. Belu's astral form ghosted into focus, seeping from the charred bodies like smoke. She wavered delicately, like she was the misty tip of an incense stick.

"Where is he?" Soi asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he crossed over?" Belu replied. The calmness in her voice did little to reassure Soi, who wobbled upright. Belu extended her hand, and focused very hard to make the fingers come back together. With a bit of doing, she offered a full hand to Soi. "I've got to hurry…will you help me to Tasuki?"

"Where is Nakago?"

"If you don't help me, we won't have the energy to look for him. I'm not strong enough to get to Tasuki on my own." Belu sounded exhausted, not that there was much juice left in Soi. Soi debated searching the area, and even attempted to disperse and scan the burning mountainside. There was the unsettling realization that if she did so alone, she would disband and slide into oblivion.

There was no other option. Thus far, Belu had helped her. Soi had to give her the benefit of the doubt. She joined hands with Belu and instantly knew where to find the two Suzaku warriors. They moved as quickly as they could, drifting towards the corpse and monk while maintaining themselves. Both were about to collapse.

Chichiri was unconscious, and Tasuki looked blue-gray, even in the light cast by the now distant forest fire. Soi wondered if the town was burning too, but couldn't conjure the emotions to care. She was wrought with concern for Nakago.

"Monk, wake up," Belu whispered. She had lost all form, appearing as just the faintest trail of mist. She fluttered around his face as if disturbed by his breathing, and slowly Chichiri's red eye rolled open. He focused on the stars, and Belu slithered into his body as he lay dazed.

"Belu…" he frowned, shivering as she integrated with him. Soi watched, also reduced to a mist form, barely holding herself together. _Bai Hua-Wan…_she recited meditatively in her mind.

Chichiri's face drew pale for a moment as his pupils dilated, and then a faint smile curled upward on his lips. He slowly sat up, and Soi could see how exhausted he was. His spiritual power was entirely drained, and physically he was in no shape to move at all. But he moved in spite of this and Soi listened to the joints in his arms and fingers crack as he extracted a blank sutra, proceeding to smear a character onto it using mud and his fingers. With great effort, he managed to place this sutra down atop the claw jutting from Tasuki's chest.

Nothing happened for a moment, before Soi realized that Belu was funneling down through Chichiri and into the claw. A moan of pain escaping him, Chichiri applied pressure and drove the claw all the way into Tasuki's heart until his palm was flat. Heat and sparks leaped from the flesh and as Chichiri gave Tasuki a pat over the injury, the red-head choked and arched upwards, gasping like a fish. He rolled onto his side hacking in bone rattling coughs. To her surprise, Soi was smiling.

"Never again," Chichiri collapsed backwards. "You are never allowed to do that again…"

Tasuki struggled onto his hands and knees, and it became apparent that he was in real pain. His face was drenched in sweat suddenly, looking flushed and alive as his eyes dilated. He clutched at his chest, biting back on a scream. Steam curled around his fingers, hissing from that point on his body, as his nails dug into the cloth.

He convulsed and fisted his hands, seeming to gouge into the recently restored injury. Pulling his fist back, he held in his palm a small gemstone. It roiled with internal anger and he gazed at it in fascination. Soi felt herself drawn to it and crept forward. Tasuki closed his fingers and squeezed, the tendons in his arms standing out. She felt the crack and for a second panicked.

Belu was suddenly there, her ethereal form draped in Tasuki's arms, and Tasuki's coughing and trembles subsided. He looked down at the transparent girl confused, with large tears in his eyes. Soi recalled...yes, she recalled faintly that he was a crybaby as she folded her knees and called up all those times when Tasuki had shed tears for his fallen comrades. She had always thought him weak for such emotional outbursts.

"It was a game," Belu smiled. "If we won, we got to find the things we wanted the most…got to find ourselves and souls." Tasuki was still clenching the broken gem in his palm.

"She gave 'em back…" he said, eyeing his white knuckled grasp. He moved to ease it when Chichiri's hand closed over his.

"Say goodbye first," he cautioned.

"Thanks," he said instead, putting his forehead against Belu's. Soi could see the moonlight through Belu's cheeks as the girl looked up at him. "For coming back for me…"

Soi realized that Chichiri was smiling at her, and looked over at him. She had no words to express the turbulence of her state, no anchor to hold her against the conflicting memories from different lives and circumstances.

"I'm sorry I can't stay longer," she said honestly.

"It's enough. Another time, another place, we got to be friends," Chichiri's pleasant smile lit up his face. "That's all that really matters." These men had put their lives on the line for her, first as a stranger, and then as an enemy. She owed them a great deal and only wished they understood how much she had come to value them.

"Thank you, Chichiri. For everything." Soi gave him a smile.

Her mind turned to Nakago. She needed to see him, to make sure that he had been restored as well. Chichiri understood, and uncurled his fingers from around Tasuki's hand. Tasuki tightened his grip for a fraction of a second, before he released it. A shimmering dust fell from his palm, and Soi felt the world give way as she tumbled backwards and vanished from sight.

It was mist and shadows as she fell, mosaics of history unfolding in a dance of shadow puppets. Nothing was concrete, all happening at once, but it did not frighten her. Some stories she knew, others played out in dramas she was fascinated and horrified by. But the only thing she wanted was to find Nakago.

- Bai Hua-Wan -

Everything was warm. Hua-Wan could feel dappled sunlight on her skin, and see the brilliant red illumination coming through her eyelids. She frowned a little, and slowly pulled open her eyes one lash at a time. Leaf patterns veiled an azure sky dripping with honey-melted sunlight. The scent of apples tickled her nose, along with the churned spring earth of the road and a tang of winter. A heady breeze drifted by, laden with the smells of a city.

Lethargically, she shifted. Bark scuffed past her shoulders and against her thighs, along with the soft shift of airy cotton. She glanced down and recalled the light garments from her childhood. A soft white dress enveloped her, trimmed at the sleeves, hem, and neckline with plum colored, geometric designs. Her feet were bare, and she carefully set them down on the bark limb she perched on. Looking down, Soi realized she was cradled in the low branches of a tree.

There hadn't been a perfect day like this in ages. Hua-Wan couldn't remember the last time she had felt so good, but her temper was dampened as she realized she was alone. Sighing, she tilted her head back and could not find the energy to get off her branch and look.

"I'm an old maid," she sighed to a few apple blossoms. "I'm so tired of looking, and yet it's all I want." Blankly, she wondered what it would have been like to be one of the Suzaku Seven, to belong to a closely knit group of friends, a group loyal to its members with a Priestess it loved. _That silly bun headed girl had all the luck in the world…but then I suppose there has to be the unhappy antagonists in a fairy tale…_

"I didn't think there would be such pretty apple blossoms so early this year," a man said close by. Hua-Wan jumped, not having heard his approach. She turned with a start, nearly falling out of her perch. A hand reached out and pulled her upright. "I thought these last years were too harsh for such delicate blooms."

"Nak-!"

"Gi Ayuru," he cut her off. He was not in his customary armor, but dressed in the tradition of his ancestors with their colorful, layered garments.

"Gi Ayuru?" she frowned, quite perplexed. She searched her memory for some connection.

"My promise," he explained, his hand still on her wrist.

"Your name," she realized. "I thought you'd forgotten…was sure you'd forgotten." Her smile was accompanied by a pink blush.

"Why did you come here?" he changed the subject, looking up through the branches towards the shards of skylight.

"It's always been my sanctuary," she answered, recalling the harsh bark against her back and Nakago – Ayuru's – radiant arrival into her life. This was the place that had sealed her fate. Hua-Wan turned her eyes away from Ayuru's contemplative profile, more brilliant then she had ever seen it, and instead ran along the curves and delicate stamens of an apple flower. The fragrance around them intensified. "I'm tired, Gi," she spoke his family name, feeling for the first time like she could reach him. "I'm tired of chasing after you, so I'll be blunt. The only thing I want is to be with you, but I am through hunting for your true feelings."

Neither of them looked at each other. Hua-Wan was aware that his hand still rested on her wrist, but she was bone weary and could muster no yearning to reach him. She had thrown everything away, poured herself into the mold that was Soi, and had lost everything. The least he could do was give her a straight answer.

A bird shot past and dove for an insect, snatching it up. The clouds moved along over their heads, and Hua-Wan found herself oddly calm. A great burden had been peeled back from her, as though heavy blankets had been pulled away and she felt the warmth of the sun directly on her skin for the first time. She quietly appreciated a moment of neutrality, not focusing on what Ayuru's answer would be.

"You were the only person I ever mourned," Ayuru said after a long time. "It was the first thing I had felt since I was a boy…" Hua-Wan responded to the warm pressure of his head on her shoulder, allowing her cheek to touch down on the silky hair sliding down his shoulders. "You were only my puppet because I could convince you to keep looking…I was not your master for long."

Hua-Wan smiled, happiness seeping into her. Tears swept down her cheeks, the excess elation she couldn't keep contained. Her fingers tightened over his.

It had been a long hunt. She suddenly found herself standing next to Ayuru on a dirt road, looking across wide open fields. Ayuru started walking first, but Hua-Wan stopped him with her refusal to move.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied.

"You don't know?"

"No. I haven't tried walking towards a future yet." He studied her with his blue eyes, eyes she still couldn't read. "Will you come?" She looked forward, and then glanced backwards. There was nothing in either direction, nothing in any direction, except the field, and this serpentine road, beginning exactly where she stood.

She took two steps to reach his side, tucking her fingers into the crook of his arm, and silently agreed. Besides, it would not really have mattered. She would have hunted him down all over again anyway.

- Fin -


End file.
